


The Red Baroness of Medality

by orphan_account



Series: Crockerpunk [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2013-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-21 20:47:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 74,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the cutting edge streets of the city of Medality, the heart of the Crocker barony, Jane Sassacre spends her days working as a private eye. In this concrete crucible of technology, magic and psychics, she searches for her missing father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Case of Insecurity

The erratic ticking of a half dead clock only served to remind the reclined woman how not asleep she really was. The clock was an heirloom, an obsolete hunk of wood and metal than no one knew how to fix anymore. Jane squirmed about in her high leather chair before giving up and picking up the pipe from her desk. On pure intent and reflex she tapped out the ash and repacked the tobacco. She gnawed restlessly on the mouthpiece as she scoured her coat pockets for her lighter. Once found, she held the stick's end to the pipe and squeezed. It took three sparks before the pipe lit up. The first puff was as hot and abrasive as it always was.

The phone blared to life without warning. Jane nearly swallowed her pipe bit.

Hello, yes? This is Crime Sassacres.

A womans voice replied

You will receive a visitor in precisely six seconds.

The phone beeped in declaration that the call was cut.

What was that all about?

Jane puffed on her pipe and counted the seconds on the broken clock through her one organic eye. The fork branded slab of metal that covered her other socket displayed the feed of results from its datamining of newscasts, straight through what had been saved of her optic nerve. Extending from the handy inset was a red frame that held a corrective lens over her 'good' eye. The clock got as far as four in a row before jumping back and forth across the thirty line at the bottom of the clock's face.

The door opened with a beep. A blue-clad Prospitan stepped in. At this hour Jane had been more expecting a troll. The Carapace's oil-spill eyes caught sight of Jane, and she saluted at once.

Oh you don't have to do anything like that. I'm not military.

Jane waved a gloved hand in dissonance. The woman had a satchel on her side and a weathered but well maintained sword on her hip. A bodyguard? A soldier? Jane pinged the woman's smooth face through her lenscomp but found no matches in the official registries. Rarely a good sign.

Are you not a detective?

Just a freelancing private eye. However, don't let my lack of formal training fog your glass. I'm not one to hoo hoo my own hat, but when it comes to sleuthing out problems I'm simply the best there is.

Well I certainly hope so. I trust you know about the Mayor's visit?

The Private Eye glanced at the pile of newspapers on her desk. The official mayoral visitation was front page on most of them.

Yes, a friendly act of bonding between neighboring city states. A firm handshake and a reevaluation of trade contracts for the betterment of all, or so say the PR officers.

I have full faith that both the mayor and your baroness will provide the best security for the visitation both can provide. Sometimes, though, the best just isn't enough. There are rumors about that one of the many crime gangs your baroness has yet to stamp out may use this meeting to their advantage.

And just what is that supposed to mean?

She took a long draw on her pipe, and idly loosened her blue tie with her free hand.

This is not a matter of loyalty. This is a matter of saving lives and preventing corruption. If there is any plot afoot, I want you to sniff it out. Money is not an issue.

Jane pushed up her glasses and regarded her pipe intently. 

A high risk job with few leads, your mayor will be here in a week, not a lot of time. That means from the moment I accept, if I do accept, I'll be on the clock round the clock. Yet before I drop any numbers you are already confident you can pay for it.

If you are thinking of swindling me, miss non-military, I must advice you against it.

The carapacian's porcelain fingers idly tapped the hilt of her sword.

Oh no, I wouldn't dream of something so unscrupulous. But I must ask, and feel free to answer at your own discretion, who are you?

I fought in the war between old Prospit and Derse. I saw both our cities reduced to rubble. With my own two hands I rebuilt a home for myself. Now I serve the mayor. Do not concern yourself with laundering, my money is my own. Money is replaceable. His life is not. I am the Prescience Monitor and I do not have the manpower to keep track of two whole city-states. So I ask you, will you help me?

Two million boonbucks. Half now, half when I'm done. That will cover the full week.

Deal.

The Presience Monitor reached into her satchel and took out a thick wad of glistening cash. Jane took it, and it was immediately digitized by her sylladex. Jane's account details popped up over the synthetic half of her vision. Her already fat account now sat exactly as much fuller as it should. If it were a pig it would be a car-sized pancake of pure bacon and capitalism.

Miss PM held up a clunky black computer shaped like an old fashioned phone, already almost a sweep obsolete in Medality.

I'll contact you in twenty four hours through a secure channel. I already have your 'private' handle.

PM tapped her cheek, right below where Jane's artificial eye was. 

Now get to work, Lady Gumshoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A story inspired by the question 'what if you ran a Shadowrun campaign based around the cyberpunk elements of Act 6?'


	2. A Place Called Nowhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane hits up an old friend and her unusual crew for a lead.

Jane turned up her collar as she walked down the neon lit streets of Medality. It was a twenty minute walk to the nearest transportilizor station. Although she could afford a place in a more tightly packed area, she preferred the proverbial back fence to jump as a way of screening out time wasters. If they weren't prepared to skirt through a less savory district just because it was poorly policed and right next to the trollslum, she wasn't prepared to talk business.

The station was sparsely crowded, mostly by homeless folk sleeping in their piles, and people waiting to be picked up. The large white clock ganging from the high ceiling displayed the time in neon green letters. At this hour there was pretty much a fifty-fifty chance of her target suffering a blackout by the time she arrived. That, however, was the risks you took. 

Jane swiped the barcode on her flesh arm past the scanner and stepped onto an unoccupied dais, marked with an octogram. The digital half of her vision blinked in notification of the travel fee being deducted from her account. She punched in her destination, and was forced to wait a few seconds until whoever was currently at the other end vacated the booth. Finally, the light went green, and she saw a bright flash of light right before being sent hurtling through space faster than the speed of light. She still hadn't gotten a proper explanation of how that worked other than 'doe2n't count'.

 

The inside of the receiver booth had a bad stank of lilacs and vomit that made Jane's nose wrinkle. That the light had blown and had yet to be replaced only made things more uncomfortable. Jane held her breath and stepped out the door.

The Elsewhere was as seedy as it ever was. A cloud of assorted substance smoke hung like a dark fog along the ceiling, distorting the light in a way that somehow flattered the garishly pink paintjob the place sported. Smooth Jazz that could do with being a whole lot smoother was being played on stage, but at least it was free of wub-hop tonight. Jane made a beeline straight to the bar.

Welly welly welly, if it isht, aced, assn't old Janey. An what brings you by bottleneck a th' woods?

The barkeeper and establishment owner kicked off on her wheeled chair and slid on over. She gave Jane a drunken wave and a leering grin.

Roxy, you're drunk. Other than that, how are things?

Jane pulled up a stool with her prosthetic hand and sat down, placing her well-worn hat on the counter.

Roxy and Elsewhere are both fine, dank you.

Roxy pushed up her triangular glasses and steadied her wavering balance upon her chair.

No thanks. No smoke but tobacco for me.

She held up her hand in declination and reached for her pipe. 

Suite your serf, but at least lemmay pour you a drank, on the house.

Roxy spun around on her swivel chair and ran her finger along the rows of bottles lining her bar shelves, squinting at the labels.

I'll have something brown then, thankyou kindly. I'm not coming within a beast's foot of one of those purple one’s ever again.

Jane methodically packed her pipe and lit up. The task was so routine to her these days that she didn’t even need to think about it.

As you are my lady, as your are.

Speaking of AR, how are you doing? Sorry for the late hello.

The coat-clad woman waved at the glassed on Roxy's face.

Oh I'm just peachy up here, looking at the world down a nose that ain't mine. Of course there's more trouble every day, but it can't be helped. Not from this lofty spot of comfortableness at least.

The rims of Roxy's triangular glasses flickered orange as they spoke. Precisely how Dirk had managed to fit a cognizant computer in them while keeping the lenses transparent was just another mystery that still escaped her. The man had no middle ground between 'micro mumble carbon mumble' and 'fucking science magic, get off my back, woman’.

I hope the weather up there doesn't upset your innards, I hear they're very delicate.

Jane turned and added a mouthful of smoke to the cloud above. The puff billowed gently, and was peaceably taken in by the malodorous haze.

Oh, everyone's delicate on the inside, but I have the tough outer callous of a virile mountaineer.

Pish for pash, ur just a big ol softy.

Roxy patted the corner of the glasses and giggled.

I think you're quite pished enough for the both of us, it's your head that's getting soft.

The way the glasses that held the Auto-Responder flashed when he talked was more than likely not a consequence of design, Jane supposed, but for the benefit of those talking to him eye to eye, so to speak. 

Oh you two stop bickering. Or flirting. It really is impossible to tell with the pair of you.

With a put upon sigh, Jane took a handkerchief from her pocket, embroidered with an emblem of a red spoon, and wiped the lens of her eye-glass.

An that, pour Janey, is why your single,

Roxy filled a glass from a bottle of malt whiskey and a bottle simple labelled 'CGT'.

'Why my single'?

Why your single is not a double, try not t' interrupt.

She pushed the class over, and fluffed her blond hair indignantly. 

Back on to business before we forget everything that we were doing, how can we help you Jane?

Right, well it gets down to this,

She took a swig of her drink, and then paused to look at it in wonder. 

Roxy what is this?

I call it Snake Juice.

Damn if that isn't delicious. Anyhow, I got wind that the word on the street is someone looking to whack the mayor while he's in town, if you'll pardon my parlance.

She slammed her drink down for emphasis

Hopy shit, we have a mayor?

Roxy nearly dropped her glass in shock. After a few frantic seconds of fumbling she set it on the counter.

Roxy, no, he's not ours, he's just visiting.

Jane adjusted her eyeglass with her organic hand.

Oh. Right then. So what can I do you for?

I need to know what the gangs have been up to lately, they’re my first leads.

Jane took another drink from her glass, emptying it.

Fill you another?

Oh yes please, this is simply marvellous.

Miss Sassacre trailed off, and stared at the bright red fingers of her prosthetic arm. The alcohol was hitting her surprisingly fast. She listened closely to the slight whirring sound as each joint bent. She should probably go in for a tune up soon.

Can doe. Anaywayway, you want the gang goss, right? Gangs, gangs, watta they gonna been up too?

Roxy sang as she refilled Jane’s drink, waving her free hand in the air in time.

Tensions have been real tight between the Midnight Crew and the Felt ever since the latter whacked a casino run by the former. At this point people have taken for granted one's gonna make a raid on the other's base, just a question of who strikes first.

While AR flashed as he explained, Lalonde spun around, and poured the last dash of Jane’s refill above her head then gave it to her.

An a mayor important question of whoof wwalks last. Also, I dun know I' you count 'em as a gang or wut, but there's been that weird cult kinda getting all noisy in their mirtha, mecha, missionaryina, preachy thing.

Roxy stumbled across her words, her elbow on the counter and an accusatory finger pointed at the ceiling. 

oh gode22, not tho2e fuck2!

From the door behind the counter stormed out an angry troll with bichromatic glasses. Without stopping to say hi, he helped himself to a bottle from behind the counter and poured himself a shot.

You know them, Reverend?

ii'm a prophet, not a reverend. get iit riight. and ye2, ii know the fuck2. they prance about iit colorful raiinbow2 2iingiing about angel2. liike they've even 2een a real angel. pah.

He chugged his shot and tossed the glass behind him. Biluminal telekinetics seized it in mid air and held it afloat just beside his head. It rotated slowly like a tiny chandelier.

And you have, Mister Captor?

oh ye2. horriible feathery a22hole2 that are ea2ily 2tartled and fa2t to get 2tabby. paiin iin the a22 for everyone.

He ran his bony hands between his curved, double horns and sighed. 

You sure you're not just vendetted against a rival religion?

ii'm all about tolerance and under2tandiing. ii don't miind that rx'2 got two god2 iin her heart, even iif the drunk a22hole never actually doe2 anythiing.

Now hang on just two thecondth, are you insultin' me, or the godhead in that remark?

Roxy prodded the troll in the chest, a put upon scowl on her face that failed to hide her smirk.

why can't iit be both?

 

The open bottle from before flew into Sollux's hand, crackling with psionic energy. He snatched it out of mid-air and poured it into the glass floating beside him.

 

Ur incorrigatable, thollux.

you're a laze wiith an a22 boniier than miine. ii just 2pent the pa2t two hours 2crubbiing your 2y2tems for leak2. two fuckiing hour2.

He let go of the bottle letting it float where he left it, snatched the glass from beside his face and gulped it down.

omg no you four eyed shit, those were all dummy leaks. nothing worth even half a poon was going out there, that was just bate. baet. bort. Things to catch fings trying to catch my theengs.

Hearing someone pronounce 'omg' as a single word never stopped sounding strange to Jane's ears.

Pardon my interrupting this little tete a trois, but if we could get right on back to the matter of hand that would be just fabaroo.

Jane rolled her eye, and methodically tapped each of her synthetic fingers one my one against the palm of her other hand. The alcohol was starting to mess with neural link, causing each movement of her prosthetic arm to be almost exaggeratedly slow.

oh? wa2 that? the tubby priivate diick want2 two play the conde2cendiing game? dare ii partake? no. no ii do not. a2 2uch, enjoy fuckiing your2elf becau2e ii've got work to do.

Sollux turned in a huff and strode back into the back room. Roxy sighed.

Ignore ham. him. he's just a moody bitches. briches. Both of the above. Now where we are we?

I believe we were on the topic of the recent activity of possibly gang like subcultures.

Right. The caltrops. wheel, if any of heir lot have been hanging around hereways thy've kept their affeeliations to thereselfs so i can't just giyya a contacter thign. soz. you could try hittin up those clowngelist guys i guess, or mabes try and get in peeps with the elustive meesty distri.

She gestured aimlessly at the air as she explained, rolling her wrist around in time to the music thumping over the speakers. 

Bah, that man is far too elusive for his own good. I swear he thinks if fresh air ever touches his skin he'll rust away like one of his robots in a deep sea trench.

Pinching her brow, Jane surreptitiously slid her empty glass aside, and hid it behind the sleeve of her coat where Roxy couldn’t refill it without asking. Though a wellspring of gossip, Roxy had a habit of being far too generous with drinks on the house when she was enjoying herself, and Jane had already had more to drink than her professionalism could turn a blind eye to, augmented or otherwise.

I know, right. I keep telling the guy he has to loosen up but he just doesn't want to hear it. Frankly I think he's gone a bit peculiar since finding that old-man artifact. The things bugged to all hell and back, but he's convinced that despite all probability it's just a security measure and there's something super important inside.

The Auto-responder flashed and dimmed in an almost huff of indignation.

And you would know these probabilities to the precicity, I presume?

Like a name tag wearing Livingstone himself. I can't even get through to him. What sort of pompous arrogant conceit is needed to decline a call from your own self, twice removed?

He won't even talk to you?

Rarely. He's isolated himself off wholesale and just sits there; staring at the shadows cast a flickering screen. Even I think he's taking the whole 'ironically acting out allegories literally' thing too far. Now, I can appreciate a good point buried in a minefield of misdirection and crimson fishstuff but in all honesty I think he's getting so caught up in his brier patch recoil parapet it's effecting his efficaciousness. But yeah, your best bet to get a hold of him would be just hoping to run into one of his robots on the street and have it open a line. I also hear some of the folks in the trollslum have been keeping a close eye on the midnight crew, but haven’t fully determined why, though so you can also check out there if nothing else.

Yeah, soz again we couldn't be more helpfuls.

Roxy frowned, her shoulders slumped. 

That's quite alright, and thanks to the both of you. Every little bit helps. I'll be sure to come back if there's anything else you can offer assistance with.

Jane picked up her hat to leave, but paused at a sound. The door to the transportalizer booth was slammed open with a thud, and out stepped a burly black-clad Prospitan. 

An a good evenin to you, sir. What can I get you toonight?

Back to reputable business owner, Roxy greeted the newcomer with a smile and a wink. 

Whiskey.

He grunted his order, sounding slightly out of breath, puffed his black vest and strode over to the bar. He was tall for a carapacian, and his hairless head bore its fair share of healed over lesions. 

Straight up.

The bottle and class were already in her hands. The girl had a real talent at doing things when you weren’t paying attention to her. 

No, on the rocks.

He leaned his elbow against the bar and coughed, choosing to stand rather than take a seat. Warily, Jane doffed her hat. 

No I mean, oh whavter, here you go.

Roxy whipped up his drink and placed it on the counter. 

There's a good girl.

He gulped it down in one, and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

Now you's and we got a little matter to discuss. The matter of being your still having not paying of the indemnification your establishment be owing to our fine organization.

Izzat right?

The barkeep cocked her eyebrow. 

On account of us not getting the dividends we rightfully deserve for not burning your shitty bar to the ground.

He straightened his posture, puffing out his chest and leering at the shorter human.

Do you need any help with this, Roxy?

Jane polished the knuckles on her prosthetic fist with her other hand and cocked an eyebrow.

Naaaaaaaaaww.

Roxy swayed back unsteadily, and then pitched forward, catching herself on the counter before she could fall.

You sure?

Oh, ftagn. Fine. Now listene herre chumpy,

She jutted a finger just over the shoulder of the burly carapacian. 

Your shitty bootleg gangers been train to set up shop fer weeks. You ain't the Crew, you aunt the Felt, you're a joek an you'll get no monnie from may. Get out a my bar befour I blast ya.

Listen you fucking trollop, you dare talk to-

A sleek, blue rifle appeared in Roxy's hands faster than anyone could blink. It let out a brief, ominous hum, and then struck the carapacian square in the chest with a brilliant turquoise beam of twisting, crackling energy. The thug was carried off his feet, and slammed into the front door of the establishment with a sickening crunch of carapace. Roxy vaulted over the counter to where he slumped and pointed the diamond-shaped emitter against his chin.

You know what tha'w's? Tha's a one. An my boi of Ahab here goes aaall the way up to elewen. Do you wanna see elevven?

 

She jammed the barrel in his mouth and slightly squeezed theb trigger. An ominous hum started up. The carapacian desperately shook his head in terror.

Roxy, I don't even need to pretend the math matters about the damage you will cause if you pull that trigger.

AR blinked thrice in mild agitation.

Also if you don't mind being a dear maybe you could allow me to give the fellow a little working over. Perhaps he might be able to give me a sniff of what the underground's been up too lately.

Jane pulled out her weapon, a large, bright red fork as long as her arm. 

Now do start telling me answers, I'd like us both to agree you've suffered enough violence for one day's silliness.

Jane smiled, and prodded him gently with her fork right where Roxy had blasted the shirt off his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This dialogue was so much fun to write.


	3. The Breakshot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trail begins with two barrels of green.

Jane kept to the shadows as she approached the run down cinema. It had been shut down some years ago, and according to Jane's new 'informant', there was shady business going afoot.

If the place was guarded, she couldn't see it. Down a neglected alley running alongside it was the broken in door of the fire exit, still scorched from the venue's final night.

Inside it was dark, dusty and dank. Her artificial eye adjusted itself to the poor lighting, and she closed her still organic one to avoid visual conflict. After waiting a few seconds to be able to see clearly, she set off to explore the derelict building.

Posters lined the wide corridors, most of them behind cracked and burnt plastic, most of them with elaborately long troll titles. The whole place had a stagnant smell of spoiled caramel and scorched popcorn, but what was left of the carpet did a good job of muffling her footfalls.

 

On the third passing of the well-smoked crater that used to be the concession stand a sound caught Jane's attention, though it was too muffled to identify. Following the echoes lead her to the ajar door to Cinema III. This close, it was clear the noises were people's voices. She flattened herself against the door and peered in.

There was a small group of people standing in the middle of the aisle between the seats. They were standing beside what looked like two large, metal barrels, completely unmarked. The group was made up of mixed personage; two humans, a troll, and two carapacians; a surly, ragged lot from the state of their clothes. They were talking with someone, but Jane could neither see nor hear who from her current position. There was nothing else for it, Jane gently pushed the door open, crouched down low and slipped inside.

Cautiously, she skulked between the standardized cinema chairs. This particular corner of the building got off lightly in fire, it seemed, and stank only mildly of carbonized caramel. Navigating the thicket of scorched chairs left her hands and knees smeared with ash, which she ignored.

So is this stuff good?

The human spoke, high pitched with masked uncertainty. Jane pinned him as the type to fold if jilted rather than stick his neck out protesting.

As good as your bucks.

The voice that replied belonged to someone obscured by her position, but the sound of it was very striking; when he spoke it was like his voice was being dragged across a bed of flint.

Hey Vexler, check it.

At the human’s request the troll, painted red by Jane’s nightvision, tore the lid off one of the barrels and tasted what was inside.

Aww yeah this is the stuff. Real high grade too. Green as your neighbors lawn ring in the first dim seasons equinox.

The troll wiped his mouth on his sleeve and smacked his lips, the barrel’s lid held by his side.

Vexler,

Yes?

Stop being a tryhard retro tool and stick that lid back. Do you even know when the dim season is?

The human flicked his forehead with his fingers, and threw his arms up.

Uhh...

Exactly.

The two carapacians remains silent and motionless in the whole exchange. Jane wasn’t close enough to see if they were focused or just spacing out. The human turned back to his mysterious dealer.

 

Alright, the stuff is good, here's your money.

Jane edged closer, trying to get a better look at them. The carapacians were a short, stout pair, Dersites each and built like gargoyles. The human was of average build, and he wore an open suit jacket over an ugly golf shirt. The troll was fairly tall, and in a figure hiding hoodie and slacks. They were all jittery and on edge. The human kept playing with his lighter, and the troll was clacking his teeth together at sporadic intervals. From her new position, Jane could make out the other guy. He had a jutting brow, square chin and sharp cheeks. He was tall, broad, and wore a suit of obvious quality. He took the money with a grunt, and brushed his hands against his jacket once the bills were fully digitized.

You've got your slop. Your money's good. Burn a trail unless you got something to start.

He looked over the group and grunted at the door.

Alright, alright, you uptight fucker, sir. Come on boys, lets move out.

The two carapacians picked up a barrel each and the group began to make their way to the exit. Jane shifted to a more hidden spot, thoughts on the fly as to her next move.

She placed her hand between two seats to steady herself as she shifted. From just a little pressure, the metal beam snapped clean off, a metallic twang rang out loud enough in the quiet cinema as a if a gun had been fired.

The man with the jutting brow sniffed.

I smell smoke.

Jane pulled her collar up to her nose and sniffed. Was old Dad's habit really that obvious?

He pulled out two cigarettes and stuck them both in his mouth. They seemed to light up themselves a moment later. He breathed in deeply, then let out a sigh of frustration.

 

The first explosion knocked her off her feet, not from size but raw unexpectedness. Fortunate, too because the air was fast filled with flying chunks of shitty chairs. over the crossfire of smoke and shrapnel, an awkward voice called out.

uHH, hEADS UP,

Another burst of explosives went off, filling the air with ash and dust. Jane's lenscomp fired up a few more filters, allowing her to see, but it couldn't do much for her breathing. The jutted brow man seemed to have vanished, but the other group was crouched by the barrels, coughing and hacking into their sleeves from the breathing the crowded air. From what she could make out, two more trolls had arrived. Where from was impossible to tell, but probably through holes blown in the walls. One was floating in mid hair, hands on its hips. The other was either some sort of horrible musclebeast mutant or riding a steed of some kind.

Think fast suckers, the authentic 8est 8itch is here!

Jane took the advice to heart. At the first sign of the bombardment letting up she made a dash for the goods. With her prosthetic limb she grabbed one of the barrels by the lip and ran for cover.

Hey! Where do you think you're going with that? Tavroooooooos!

rIGHT, uHH, oN IT,

The one not floating shot forward and the whole world went spinning. Something hard struck her on the ribs and back, but she didn't let go.

Now ride like the wind, Pupaaaaaaaa!

Something else struck Jane on the head and she blacked out.

 

 

sO, uHH, iF YOU COULD PROPER WAKE UP, aND NOT FAKE WAKE UP, tHAT SURE WOULD BE SWELL, mISS,

I'm sorry, have I been abducted again?

Jane looked around. She was tied to the back of some sort of animal, the barrel still tight in her metal hand. Beside her, steering the beast was a male troll, his black hair up in a mohawk between a pair of bull-like horns, and wearing a jacket of some sort of purple leather. Craning her neck, she could see another troll ahead of them, flying via some sort of footwear based propulsion, her shaggy black mane blowing behind her as they shot through Medality city's back streets.

i WOULDN'T SAY THAT, iT'S, aLTHOUGH PROBABLY TRUE ON A TECHNICAL LEVEL, nOT SOMETHING I WOULD SAY, fOR THE SAKE OF MY, uHH, rEPUTATION, aS THE SANE ONE IN THIS PARTNERSHIP,

The troll rubbed his head sheepishly. Jane noticed that he used no bridle, steering the creature with his bare hands.

Wait, what did you mean 'fake awake'?

wELL, nORMALLY SLEEPING PEOPLE DON'T STRUGGLE, aND NORMALLY AWAKE PEOPLE HAVE THEIR EYES OPEN, aND NOTICE YOU TALKING TO THEM, aND STUFF, aLSO YOU WOULDN'T LET GO OF THE, uHH, sTUFF,

Well I did black out for a bit when something struck my head.

yEAH, tHAT WAS PROBABLY ME, oR, mY HORSARONI, vRISKA WANTED ME TO GET THE BARREL,aND YOU HAD THE BARREL, sO I FIGURED, yEAH,

A horsaroni, Jane had heard of them, but never seen one in the city. Usually the only place you’d find one was down at the race tracks. It struck her as an odd choice of mount for traversing the city streets.

So you knocked me out?

oH, oH NO, i JUST, mAY HAVE, nOT BEEN AS GENTLE AS i PROBABLY SHOULD, wHEN FORCFULLY MOVING SOMEONE ONTO A, mOVING ANIMAL,

He awkwardly rubbed his arm. Jane noticed that he seemed to be quite practiced at riding the horsaroni one- handed.

Is that right?

yEAH, sO IF YOU COULD, uHH, hAND ME THE BARREL, i COULD LEAVE YOU BEHIND?

He reached out towards her. Her metal arm stuck out stiffly behind her, barrel in tow, and she could feel the slight strain each little jolt of the animal put upon where the artificial limb was attached to her body. Her spine would probably pay her back for it tomorrow. She shook her head.

Not going to happen, I'm afraid. I'll be happy to trade the barrel for some key information however.

tHATS, uHH, nOT REALLY SOMETHING i SHOULD DECIDE ON MY OWN, i MEAN, vRISKA WILL PROBABLY WANT TO JUST KILL YOU AND TAKE THE BARREL, i COULD PROBABLY TALK HER OUT OF IT BUT, wELL, lOOK i JUST DON'T SEE YOU COMING OUT ON TOP, oF THIS WHOLE SITUATION, at ALL,

He fidgeted as he spoke, glancing around and hardly seeming to pay attention where they were going, yet never failed to make a corner or a turn as he navigated the city’s back alleys. She couldn’t tell if he knew the way that well, or was just good at keeping one eye on the airborne troll ahead of them.

Yes, well, we'll see who hoo hoo's last.

yEAH, i UHH, nEED TO BLINDFOLD YOU NOW, sO YOU DON'T KNOW WHERE OUR, sECRET, hIDEOUT IS, i'D ASK IF THAT'S OKAY, bUT YOU DON'T, aCTUALLY, hAVE A CHOICE IN THE MATTER, sO I'LL JUST GO AHEAD AND DO IT,

Oh alright then, if you insist.

 

When the blindfold was removed, Jane found herself in what seemed to be badly cluttered garage. There was a motorbike under a tarp, a workbench covered in parts. Almost every open surface was buried in some kind of discard or another, bar a few places here and there where someone had made a half-hearted attempt at clearing a walkway.

Jane took a better look at the troll before her. His teeth were jagged and he had a slight overbite. His pictograph was a brown circle with two lines, declaring his blood caste. He turned to attend to a purple, vaguely equine animal. This Jane recognized as a horsaroni, a species the trolls had brought with them when they'd made planetfall all those centuries ago. Seeing them side by side it was obvious that his jacket was made of the tanned hide of such a creature. There was a metallic clang as he shifted his posture. He was fully prosthetic below the waist, robotic legs, robotic feet; even his pants seemed to be made from metal sheets riveted together.

Heeeeeeeey, Toreadork, have you sawed that human's arm off yet?

uHH,

Yeah, I figured as much.

The other troll walked through the door, naked from the waist up and with a towel draped over her shoulders. Her matted, shaggy hair hung halfway down her back. The left side of her face was a scarred mess, but her eye, which bore seven pupils, was strangely unaflicted. Her breasts were hardly existent, and her ribs jutted out obviously through her skin. There was more scarring around her left side, and that entire arm was mechanical below the shoulder. A pair of dark blue pants hung loose and unbuttoned around her bony hips.

Checking out the hardware, eh?

The troll raised an eyebrow, and walked her robotic fingers across the counter with a distinct tick-tock sound.

I see you're no stranger to missing meat here and there yourself. Hey, ro8o-8unp.

She offered her mechanical fist. Jane's own arm remained where it was, holding tight onto the barrel she'd grabbed.

Ahh, it was worth a try. You'd not 8eleive how often that actually works. Oh well. Hey, have you thought a8out getting your old eye 8ack? It worked like a charm for me.

She flipped her hair up and pointed at her left eye, slightly bulging like it was just a bit too big for her skull.

Of course you weren't 8lessed with glorious vision 8-fold from hatchday so you pro8a8ly don't miss it as much. That and it's technically illegal so you can only find a good jo8 of it on the 8lack market unless you know a good guy like I do. I notice you went for Crocker 8rand stuff. 8ad luck that, you would not 8eleive the horror stories I've heard a8out Crockertech gone 8ad.

I assure I am a very satisfied customer when it comes to Crocker goods.

Jane flashed a tight lipped smile.

Yeah? Well there's no helping 8rand loyalty I guess. Oh, hey, can I get you anything? Coffee? 8ooze? Ru8ix cu8e? 8y 'I' I mean send Tavros to get it, o8viosly.

She gestured vaguely at the other troll’s direction. Tavros, as he seemed to be called, offered Jane a resigned wave.

No thank you, I'm quite alright.

You've got your head in the game, I like that. Alright, let's get down to 8usiness. My offer is thus- me and Nit-lame 8eat you up, pry that 8arrel from your cold, metal hand, and since I like you, we'll just drug you, 8lindfold you again, then leave you at some street corner or something instead of selling your organs, I don’t know. Your counter offer?

She flashed a smile of teeth like ivory knives and rubbed her hands together gleefully.

Do you ever breathe?

Jane waited a few seconds before asking, to make sure the troll was actually done talking.

yEAH, sHE'S aH, lIKE THAT,

Tavros, shut up.

She jerked across her neck with her metallic thumb. Tavros muttered something quietly and returned to grooming his purple mount.

 

Alright then, miss?"

Vriska. Vriska Serket. Over there is my dum8 palefriend Tavros.

yO,

He waved. The Horsaroni gave a whinny of protest, and Tavros resumed grooming it.

Alright then Miss Serket, here is my counter offer. This lump of metal substituting for my missing eye is a very useful tool, and has such convenient functions as GPS, sound recording, and mailing, as befitting a quality Crocker product. With the effort it takes to blink I can send this location, your admittance at a number of illegal dealings, and my agreement to press charges on my kidnapping.

As she spoke, Jane polished her synthetic knuckle with the palm of her hand.

 

Really? All that?

The long haired troll raised an eyebrow and whistled, then scratched her chest with her metal arm.

vRISKA, yOU REALLY SHOULD, uHH, pUT A SHIRT ON, oR SOMETHING, wE HAVE A GUEST AFTER ALL,

Standing up from the horsaroni, Tavros went over to a hamper filled with clothes and started looking through it.

Not now Tavros.

She rolled her eyes, ignoring the blouse and jacket he held up.

vRISKA, vRISKA PLEASE, pLEASE,

The mohawked troll pleaded, his loud, stilted voice filled with disdainful exasperation.

Alr8t! Fuck, you're such a nagger.

Both her arms were thrown into the air in surrender.

iF i WASN'T SUCH A NAGGER, yOU WOULD BE DEAD BY NOW, lITERALLY,

Vriska fished around a pile of greasy rags next to a toolbox and pulled out a black shirt. On its chest was a cerulean, stylized M looking pictograph with a pointed tail.

So anyway, after that nice little infomercial, you haven’t actually made an offer yet, just assumed I can't kill you 8efore you can 8link.

The troll gave a snort, looking with rapt fascination at the dirt under the yellow nails of her hand.

This barrel is full of sopor, right? I've no use for it, and I'm not such a stifler for the law that I care what a pair of bootleggers do with it. I'm interested in the bigger fish, and where they swim. Fish in suits that make big waves.

yOU'VE LOST ME,

Tavros walked over, the clothes from before tossed back in the hamper.

She means the 8ig league gangs, duh! I know aaaaaaaall a8out them.

She breamed, stretching her arms out like she was describing just how big a suited fish she knew.

Oh you do, do you?

Hey, I got connections; I got irons in fires you've never even heard of.

Mmhmm?

Jane tapped her foot, unimpressed, her eyebrow slowly migrating skywards.

A8solutely. I know mem8ers of The Felt on a first name 8asis. Nicknames, even. Hell, I've even stolen from them.

i'M, uHH, nOT SURE THAT'S HELPING YOUR CASE, nOR FOR THAT MATTER, uHH, SURE WHY YOU'RE SO EAGER TO MAKE THIS CASE, lIKE YOU'VE GOT SOMETHING TO PROVE,

Shuffling his feet, Tavros bit his lip in concern.

Tavros shut the f8ck up. Not in front of vis8tors! So what do you want, human?

She spun from Tavros back to Jane.

The gangs, one or both of them, are planning something with the Mayoral Visitation. You can have this slime, in exchange you use your connections and whatever else have you what to find out. I'll even throw in a little extra if you can bring some proof of what they're planning.

And, just for the sake of asking, if we take the slime and a8scond?

I am very good at finding people, and even if you packed up shop right away it wouldn't take much effort on my part to find you again now that I know what to look for. A few calls, and your life of crime is shut down for good.

Jane delivered her rebuttal as cold and businesslike as if she were taking out a loan.

8old words, human. Just the way I like em. You have your deal.

Vriska extended her arm and Jane took it, sealing the deal with a shake of their prosthetic hands.

 

Jane left the thieves' garage den, and stepped out into an alleyway deep in one of the cheaper residential districts. It took pointing out her GPS three times to convince the unhinged cerulean to do away with the blindfold. Finally free of her twitching gaze, Jane breathed a sigh of relief, and packed herself a pipe as she strolled out into the street. The sidewalks were almost completely bare, save the occasional homeless. The city was quiet enough to hear a caegar drop.

Jane flinched as a caegar dropped just in front of her, clinking against the sidewalk. It spun on the pavement four times, and then fell to reveal a scratched face. Jane took a deep puff of her pipe and sighed.

She threw up her mechanical arm, and sparks lit up her face as a gleaming blade grinded along her forearm.

H3Y S4SS4CR3. STOP CRY1NG 1NTO YOUR D4DS TOB4CCO TUB3. H3 H4T3S YOU 4ND H4S L3FT YOU FOR3V3R. H3H3H3H

Jane turned to the angular red lenses of her attacker, and puffed a mouthful of smoke in her face. It was always irritating how much this particular troublemaker dug up about her past.

And a fine hoo hoo to you too, Pyrope. If you're after a cake, I'm afraid I don't work with rotten eggs.

Jane shoved the blade aside with her arm, and the two stared each other down on the street.

Her attacker wore a gaudy red jacket over a pinstripe shirt of black and teal. The blade she bore was from an unsheathed, lusus-white sword cane adorned with ruby eyes. With its sheath, she flipped the coin up from the ground and into her pocket with the precision of a well-practiced trick. Terezi Pyrope, legally blind, weirdly not, legislacerator and loose cannon. The straight-horned troll leaned in and sniffed deeply, face set in a familiar grin.

Y3S, D3FL3CT TH3 R34L1TY OF YOUR UNLOV3D 3X1ST4NC3 W1TH TH3 4M4Z1NG G1RTH OF YOUR B4K3D GOODS HUMOR. TH4T 1S TH3 K3Y TO NOT THROW1NG YOURS3LF OFF A BR1DGE 1N 4 F1T OF GOOD S3NS3. TH3 D4M4G3 FROM DO1NG SO WOULD SUR3L3Y C4US3 D3STRUCT1ON TO PUBL1C PROP3RTY. 4S TH3 4RM OF TH3 L4W 1 WOULD B3 FORC3D TO 4RR3ST TH3 3NORMOUS P1ZZ4 TH4T YOU WOULD L34V3 B3H1ND.

I assure you I'm more of a desert specialist. A pizza would be a much more fetching look for you, though I can't imagine what sort of topping could result in such an ugly shade of blue.

Jane’s hand twitched. She fought off the urge to go for her fork, but escalating a clash with Terezi was always so tempting, no matter how much the troll always made her regret it.

YOU'D L1K3 TH4T, WOULDN'T YOU J4N3Y. YOU'D L1K3 TO SHOV3L M3 INTO 4N OV3N 4ND W4TCH M3 BURN. T4K3 M3 B4CK TO YOUR G1NG3RBR34D HOUS3 4ND GOBBL3 M3 4LL UP L1K3 TH3 W1TCH YOU 4R3.

Her gray tongue lashed against her black lips like a certain snake’s rattle. It served much the same warning too, Jane imagined.

I'm not sure if you're trying to court me or threaten me, troll.

H3H3H3H3H3H

Terezi licked her black lips, and pressed the head of her sword into Jane's sternum.

YOU TH1NK YOU'R3 Th3 B1G GR4ND PR1V4T3 D1CK 4ROUND H3R3, GO1NG WH3R3 TH3 L4W C4N'T. W3LL 1 4M TH3 L4W, 4ND 1 GO 3V3RYWH3R3.

Terezi sniffed again. Up this close Jane could see the red powdery residue around the troll's nose.

You're running hot on bad chalk you wretched junkie. Go home.

Jane tried to turn away, but Terezi cut her off with her arm and pushed her against the wall. The jagged dragon head dug painfully into the detective's chest.

What is this about?

1 C4N SM3LL H3R ON YOU.

Who?

The troll leaned right in, tongue lolling out her mouth, and gave Jane’s cheek a long, hard lick. Her tongue was rough against her link, and the smell of the Terezi’s saliva flooded Jane’s nose. The sleuth bit her lip and gulped.

MY M4RK. MY S1ST3R. SP1D3RTROLL.

You are paranoid and delusional; I have no idea what you're talking about.

Jane huffed, and tried to shove the troll off her but was stilled by Terezi twisting the cane head against her gut.

1 C4N SM3LL YOUR L13S TOO. WHY DO YOU DO TH1S, J4N3? WHY DO YOU M33T MY QU1V3R1NG PROBOSCUS OF FR13NDSH1P W1TH CALOUS D3C31T? TH3Y BURN, S4SS4CR3. TH3 L13S BURN TO SN1FF. 1T 1S 4 GOOD P4IN. H33H33H33. H44H44H44.

Yes, yes, hoo hoo hoo and all that madness.

YOU H4V3 NO 1D34 HOW MUCH YOU D1SGUST M3. YOU'R3 4 TOT4l D1SGR4C3 TO TH3 F13LD OF 1NV3ST1G4T1ON.

The troll was panting heavily. She was working herself up into a state that Jane really didn’t have time more, but it was just so easy to push back in all the little right ways.

You're a crooked cop and a pox upon the city's force.

Slowly, deliberately, she brought her pipe up to her mouth and took a puff.

W3 BOTH H4V3 HOW W3 S33 34CH OTH3R.

You don't, you're blind.

M4YB3, M4YB3, YOU'R3 UND3R 4RR3ST THOUGH.

What? On what charges?

Her eyes widened in alarm. Normally her exchanges with the chalk-addict cop ended with either a brawl in the street or decking the troll on her smug, pointy chin and making a run for it. Actually placing charges meant Pyrope was in the mood for playing dirty. Getting people to fork up for her bail cost favors, even when she did pay them back right away- favors that could be better spent solving cases and procuring information. What's worse, she was on the clock, and professionalism prevented her from just idly wasting a client's dollar with frivolous time sinks.

W1THOLD1NG 1NFORM4T1ON FROM 4N 4G3NT OF TH3 L4W, OBSTRUCT1ON OF JUST1C3, SUSP3CT3D CONSP1R4CY W1TH 4 KNOWN T3RROR1ST C3LL.

You what?

Jane weighed up her options.

3V3RYTH1NG YOU'V3 3V3R S41D 4ND DON3 S1NC3 YOU SO1L3D TH1S 34RTH W1TH YOUR D1SGUST1NG H1D3 C4N 4ND 1S 4LR34DY B31NG H3LD 4G41NST YOU. YOU H4V3 TH3 R1GHT TO SQU34L L1K3 4N O1NKB43ST WH3N 1 DRUB YOU BRU1S3D 4ND BLOODY B4CK 4T TH3 ST4T1ON. 1F YOU W4NT TO G1V3 M3 4N 34RLY TW3LTH P3R1G33S 3V3 G1FT, R3S1ST 4RR3ST SO 1 C4N ST4RT NOW.

The troll giggled maniacally. There was little doubt in Jane’s mind that she wasn’t getting off on this somehow. In a straight up strife, Jane had little doubt she could take out the drug-addled enforcer, but an assault charge would just give the troll legitimate grounds to make herself even more of a nuisance later.

I'd sooner deprive you of the satisfaction. You'll see no generosity from me.

The sleuth gave a toothy smile, and shrugged in resignation.

4H4H4H4H4H4.

When the troll laughed she threw her whole head back and opened her mouth to its fullest. While Vriska’s teeth were like long, sleek knives, Terezi’s jaws left the impression of a serrated edge, or a perimeter of caltrops.

Terezi's swordcane vanished into her sylladex and was replaced by a red noose, with which the legislacerator swiftly bound both Jane's arms and led her away, pulling on the rope like a leash. Jane could feel her cheeks going flush from embarrassment, but fought the feeling down. Such a rise was just what the teal blood wanted from her.

 

Already busy scouring newsfeeds with her lenscomp, Jane had only just gotten settled into her holding cell when the door was swung back open.

W3ll W3ll W3ll, 1T LOOKS L1K3 SOM3ON3 W4NTS 4 GO 4T RU1N1NG YOUR D4Y B3FOR3 1 DO. YOU'V3 B33N BOUGHT, S4SS4CR3. G3T TH3 H3LL OUT OF MY SL4MM3R.

Terezi stepped aside, and a figure in the hallway entered. Gray skin, a purer gray than any troll. A perfectly smooth, featureless face save the blaze red triangular lenses for eyes that jutted out past the sides of its head. It wore a brown trenchcoat, tied closed and with the collars turned up, one arm hanging lazily out its coat pocket. A Brobot.

Oh, hello Dirk.

Jane stood up with a sigh, and switched her datamining to automatic. With idle disinterest she brushed off her coat.

Only a hello? That's awfully stiff of you.

Its voice, though masculine, had a very distinct artificial quality; a stylistic choice on the part of the creator. He called it retro-miku, whatever that meant. The brobot tipped its hat, a unevenly rimmed derby, and gestured for Jane to join it.

You're an awfully stiff man, Dirk, and very hard to get a hold of lately.

With a sigh, she walked out, making a point not to look at the red eyed teal legislacerator cackling quietly by the door.

When you've irons and fires as delicate and volatile, respectively, as mine, you can't afford to get distracted by any old broad.

The pair of them were shooed out of the station by Terezi who was almost literally nipping at their heels, past crowded cubicles and a sparse waiting room out into the street. It had started raining, and the streets were filling with the early risers and late setters. Like every other hour, the trolls and carapacians outnumbered the humans by a wide margin.

Come on, I'll buy you something to eat.

The brobot tried to lead her away. Still slighted by his earlier comment, Jane stood were she was.

Is that what I am? Another old broad?

No, which is why I'm here at all.

The brobot turned to face her, and turned up the collar of its coat.

One of you.

She eyed its flat steel face wearily. Several seconds of tense silence passed between then, then the brobot turned and started to walk away.

Good vodka, rancid meat.

It spoke suddenly. Jane hurried on after it.

What?

Maybe you can afford to die when you are killed, but I've got bigger things to worry about. My mortal meatsack doesn't need to be exposed to potential bullet filled airspace just to bribe your hatefriend to cancel your date. Ahem, I mean pay your bail.

Jane kicked the brobot in the shin.

Can it, tin man. Though I am grateful you got me away from that saw-mouthed harpy. You know what's like when she's on the chalk.

With a sigh, she pulled out her pipe and started packing it.

I didn’t realize she was ever off. What did she want this time?

Something about a 'Spidertroll'. On the off chance she's not just off her rocker I have a jolly good hunch she meant one Vriska Serket.

She lit her pipe, took a puff, and let her shoulders relax.

You've met Serket?

 

The crowd paid them no heed as they passed through. A cyborg and a robot was a common enough sight not to turn any heads. The pair of them was hardly unique in either respect.

I was looking into recent gang movement and got caught up in a snatch and grab by the third party of said troll and her partner.

Yeah, I've been hearing a bit here and there about those two. I think they're calling themselves the 'Hell's Skylarks' right now, but they seem to change names too fast for anything to stick. It's either a very cunning way to moderate their reputation, or they're just a pair of wishy-washy finicks.

She chewed the bit of her pipe in contemplation.

I don't think that's a real word.

Of course it is. Finick. The type of person you are acting like when you are being finicky. Now, are you that kind of person, or do you feel like eating these noodles I'm about to buy you?

The brobot gestured to a neon-lit bar just down the street from them.

I'll eat them, but you're paying for my drinks too.

There seems something ingenuous about this.

Your offer was suspect to begin with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Am I above making dick jokes at Dirk's introduction?"  
> "No. No I am not."


	4. Weird Streets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discourse between old friends.

The place the Brobot took her was called the Volcanic. Everything was made of polished imitation wood, and the various potted plastics, curtains and beads hanging around the place suggested an attempt at some sort of new wave feng shui. There was a fish tank suspended from the ceiling right below the light, causing the whole place to be painted with the roiling ethereal currents of the water, and the air smelled richly of strong spices and sumptuous food. This early in the morning here was only one other patron, a small hulk of a troll passed out at her table with a gray coat draped over her back. Every few seconds she would grunt softly in her agitated unconsciousness.

Evening, Sole Proprietor, how's business?"

The Volcanic's Sole Proprietor was a thin, jittery dersite wearing a chef's hat and a butcher's apron. In his chitinous hands he polished a flagon with sporadic, jerking movement. The Brobot waved at him, and pulled up a cushioned stool for Jane and himself. With a silent nod, the carapacian reached under the counter and handed them a pair of menus, then resumed his task of polishing the engraved pewter flagon in his hands. They sat, and each placed their hat on the counter beside them.

Don't worry about Old Sole, he doesn't talk much.

Jane picked up her menu and opened it. The thing was easily the thickness of a monthly magazine and it surprised Jane with its heaviness. Seeing her confusion, the Brobot gave a synthetic chuckle.

Old Sole was notoriously indecisive when he first opened up. Did he want a noodle place? a sushi bar? A bar and grill? A noodle sushi bar and grill? So he just threw in the towel and decided to cook everything. All of the things. Ask for anything, if he doesn't have the ingredients he'll send his kitchen hand out to get them. When he's cooked a thing once, he adds it to the menus. Remarkable little setup.

Do you often come to this place?

She opened the menu and ran a finger down one of its pages, biting her lip with her large incisors. Most of the dishes on offer she’d never even heard of, and the prices on some of them were simply astounding. What the hoot was 'Mangosteen Clafouti', and why did it cost as much as getting a full overhaul on her arm?

It's the best dive in the district. Old Sole is old fashioned in many ways. This place is pretty much off the grid eaves-wise and he can be trusted to not casually repeat anything he happens to overhear. That's not to say you can go spouting all sorts of terrible secrets people would kill for, but the place is unbugged so you don't have to concern yourself with full transcripts of incriminating conversations showing up on the xenoconduit.

So apart from one or two topics I can speak freely?

Pretty much.

Very well then. Have you found any word of my father?

She spoke levelly, her eyes not leaving the expressionless metal simulacrum.The Brobot paused, and then put its menu down.

A house noodle special and a Terry Cocktail.

The Dersite behind the bar nodded, and with just two fingers placed the flagon he was polishing on the shelf. He gave a polite half bow and walked through the floppy doors to the kitchen out back. The Brobot scratched its chin in thought as its controller tried to find the right words.

I've kept a close eye on every morgue and hospital report that's passed through bureaucracy in this whole barony, as well as kept a cover of every killing and dead body reported that didn't get the paperwork done. Not a single corpse more than vaguely matching your old man has turned up, and I even looked into those. Your father's almost definitely not dead, but wherever he is someone's keeping an amazingly tight lid on everything about it. This lid is the latest in childproof tupperware technology and is completely impenetrable by anyone over the age of seven. I've got my crack squad of schoolkids working this and they just aren’t getting a budge. For all we know he may be on ice in someone's basement because they're a sick freak who collects human popsicles.

Dirk.

She strummed her fingers on the counter and scowled. Her mechanical fingers clicked loudly against the polished surface.

Right, sorry, I'm getting away from myself.

It seems that's the only person you're not getting away from these days.

She sighed, and took out her pipe. 

You know it's not like that. I've got a lot of important things riding on me right now. I don't like that it's left me too busy to even give my friends the time they deserve but I can't afford to just drop everything, not anymore.

Come off it, Strider. You're like an addict. You NEED to keep busy.

She puffed deeply of her pipe and blew a cloud of smoke in the Brobot's unflinching, featureless face. It didn’t respond. 

You're too good. That's your problem. You're too good and you keep getting better so you need a harder and harder challenge to still get your ego off, to get that rush of a job well done.

It thumped its fist against the counter and turned to her.

I'm not some hopped up rig junkie. I know what I'm doing. If you really want me to return more of your calls how about you stop using that Crockercorp botnet crap for every single little thing you do? It’s bad enough you went for their prostheses, but you had to go ahead and stick with every last one of their firmware and apps too? You literally have no privacy.

There is nothing wrong with Crocker products.

With a click of her tongue she turned up her nose at the expressionless bot, her arms crossed before her.

There is definitely something wrong with that stubborn brand loyalty of yours. Listen to yourself. You are a private eye, I am telling and have told you multiple times that the Corporation who runs this city-state has full transcriptions of everything you say and do with that stupid lenscomp of yours. If you ever became the enemy of the state that's it, game over, and you, as a sleuth, think there's nothing wrong with this? Step back for just one moment and see what's wrong with this picture.

I'm not going to tear off my eye and arm for your paranoia. For Pete's sake, Strider, be reasonable.

I'm not saying to do anything so drastic. Not that seeing a good black market doc for some new augs wouldn't be in your best interest, I'm just saying to apply a bit less naiveté and a bit more suspicion. Look, at least take this.

The Brobot pulled something from behind its ear; an unlabeled micromemorystick, and placed it in Jane's organic hand.

And this is?

A chat client. One I made myself. This thing's channels are more secure than the bulbous ass of god's only child in the lockeroom of the most prestigious school for goody two shoes. It can only communicate with copies of the same program. Roxy and the Responder both have it, and a few other people I trust.

I really don't think this is necessary.

With a dispirited sigh Jane inserted the stick into the socket on her lenscomp. The graphical representation of its contents popped up in the artificial side of her vision. There was just one executable file listed inside.

'Delerious Biznasty', really?

She raised her eyebrow. The Brobot waved its hand dismissively.

It's a good name. It’s a perfect name, and that's beside the point. Think about this place. This absurd barony we live in. Don't you think there's something weird about this city?

Not overly.

She plucked out the stick when it was done installing and slid it back across the counter, then leaned against the counter and took another puff of her pipe.

Oh really? Built over the ruins of old alien Derse, the majority of actual law enforcement is done by robots designed after the monstrous genefreaks the Red Empress brought with her, and the crime rate's still disproportionately high. It has the single highest troll population in the world, and though it is ostensibly governed by humans, it still hasn't formally abolished the caste system like other communities. Feral Lusus Naturae roam the ghettos and no one up top seems to be doing anything about it, or even care. There's surveillance everywhere and in everything, almost. Corruption is through the roof and Betty Crocker runs this place like a dictatorship. Where did she even come from? No records exist of her before she showed up on the scene at the end of the great war, already a corporate tyrant, and that was over a hundred years ago. Does she even exist? Is she lying about being human? Why? Is she just a brain in a jar in a convincing robot? A digital imprint? She outlawed natural breeding for fucks sake. How do you not see how messed up that is?

It might seem unromantic, but this way parents are guaranteed a healthy kid free of defects and mutations.

Oh sure, that sounds nice as an option, not mandated fucking policy. I'm telling you everything is seriously fucked up when anything more intimate than a genetic donation to some lab is outright illegal.

The brobot slammed its fist into the counter, its orange, angular lenses flashing in the only way its otherwise featureless face could show emotion.

Is this a personal matter? Is there...someone?

Leaning back, Jane chewed the bit of her pipe pensively, her brow narrowed in concern.

This isn’t about personal matters this is about violation of ethics, dammit.

The brobot swept it's arm across the counter, narrowly avoiding the glass and ashtray that had been left there.

And is this anything to do with what you've been so busy with, lately?

Not even this place is safe for that.

It faced straight ahead and muttered quietly. 

Oh Dirk, please do try not to get yourself tied up in anything too reckless.

Hey, your food's here.

Interrupting them, the Sole Proprietor stepped out from the kitchen carrying a glass and a deep, steaming bowl. He placed both in front of Jane, and then slid forward a blinking pay chit. The brobot casually tapped in a six digit code and pushed it back across. Jane sighed into her pipe, resigned to that particularly conversation being left hanging for probably quite a while. 

So is this any good?

With her organic hand she picked up the chopsticks placed over the bowl and broke them apart. The bowl held what appeared to be an extremely viscous noodle soup, it smelled faintly of cinnamon, and seemed to contain an assortment of fruit, most noticeably chunks of roast apple.

I can vouch for it myself.

'Can', but will you?

Let's not be pedantic.

That doesn't answer my question.

Just eat the damn noodles.

With a shrug she brought up mouthful of the concoction with the chopsticks and swallowed it. Her eye lit up as the flavors danced across her tastebuds.

Oh! I see. It's like a honey apple kugel, but done as a soup instead of a casserole.

I thought you might like it.

The brobot buzzed happily as she ate some more of the steamy dish.

It's a good blend of sweet and savory, with the raisins and, why yes I do believe these are walnuts. This must have taken a bit of trial and error to perfect.

The Sole Proprietor, though remaining silent, rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. Jane swallowed another mouthful, and washed it down with a gulp of her cocktail.

This is also good. What did you say it was?

A Terry cocktail.

The orange flavor goes quite nicely with this dish. Well done Strider.

Glad to see I've met your culinary expectations. Now enough of all that gloomy talk before. Tell me about your current case.

Rolling her eyes, Jane brushed a lock of hair from her face.

Change the topic so abruptly you'll give a girl whiplash. Alright then, bossy-pants; someone from Can Town, I mean, the Golden Cairn; a Prospitan lass calling herself the 'Prescience Monitor' thinks the mayor is going to be a target from one of the gangs. I'm waiting for a lead to get back to me on what the Felt have under their hat on the matter, but apart from that I've got to rely on my gumshoe instinct to see what else I can turn up.

So you're just going to follow your hunches until you trip over a clue. Is this how you solve all your cases?

It's been one day and I'm working with tenuous little information to start with. One way or another I'll have this thing bust right open before the week's up.

The brobot leaned its elbow on the counter and drummed its fingers against its forehead. There was a little plinking each time a metal digit made contact.

Alright, alright, if you say so. I'll look into what I can myself, but, hmm, I can think of a few individuals who may be in a position to shed a little light on the matter. I'm really not sure if they can be relied upon though and I'd hate to send you on an agarian fowl pursuit.

Oh just spit it out.

A troll, blue blood fallen on hard times. Lives in a place in the trollslum. The name's Equius Zahhak. Tell him 'Bro' sent you. Hang on, I'll send you the address, and for fucks sake don't just plug it into Crocker Maps.

The Brobot jabbed a finger at her. She rolled her eye and emptied her pipe into the ash tray. In the vision of her lenscomp the chat window for Delerious Biznasty popped up, containing a street address and satellite coordinates.

If this whole city's as under surveillance as you say, won't they just see me looking this up at a street terminal anyway?

If I really wanted you to not be traceable at all I'd have to bring out the unmarked vans, and huge robots with ominous cloaks and experimental technology. This is about showing at least a bit of discretion and not doing your enemies work for them.

Enemies? It's not like I'm a wanted fugitive or anything.

Yet.

Jane slurped down the last of her meal in one go and put her hat on.

I'm not planning on becoming a huge criminal any time soon, Strider.

She curtly addressed him.

You don't plan these things. You plan in case of them.

Goodbye Mister Strider, and my compliments to the chef.

She began packing herself a pipe, whistling an old tune, and walked out the door.


	5. Descent into Trollslum

The trollslum was a dangerous place, surrounded by a high wall on all sides and each entrance guarded by a squad of hulking red and gray Crockerdrones. She waved to them as she walked past the district gates and into the run down ghetto. They paid her no heed. As Dirk had said, they were modeled after the Imperial Drones brought down with the Red Empress when she descended from the stars with the last of her race. Compared to then the species had made quite the comeback, but Dirk was the historian, not her, and such topics held little interest for Jane unless they could help her solve a case. From what she could gather, the drone's predecessors had an auxiliary function outside of peace-keeping back in the bygone age, to facilitate the trolls' exotic breeding mechanism. Something about genetic slurry and a holy mother grub. Back then breeding was mandated, or so Dirk said, and then he went on at length at the sociological ramifications of that and Jane had sort of zoned out for a while. She sometimes wondered if he wouldn't be happier if he left his self-imposed fringe exile and became an educator, he certainly had the lecturer's oratorical endurance.

Inside the slum was not a pretty sight. The streets were in severe disrepair, unfit for any vehicle larger than a bike not suited to all-terrain travel. The countless hivestems were packed tightly together, almost falling over one another, each porch, patio and terrace decorated in faded paint and moth eaten cloth in a stubborn effort at personalization of the inhabitant despite poverty. She had gone back to her place and slept until nightfall before coming here. The trolls being a nocturnal breed, she hadn't wanted to catch her lead fast asleep. Trolls tended to be an ornery bunch, prone to erring on the path of violence when upset. As such the night was filled with young trolls playing in the streets. Some were just playing simple games, running around in brightly colored outfits, teasing stray animals, and painting graffiti were they could get away with it. Every troll had their own personal pictograph, and some of the more popular graffiti spots were so crowded with esoteric symbols they looked like a madman's summoning ritual. Jane observed a pair of young trolls slowly encroaching on goliathan adult squatted on the stoop of his communal hive stem, his shaggy mane twisted into countless braids. He snarled as they drew closer, eliciting a pique of giggling from them. Grinning ear to ear, they took another step towards him. He bellowed, and lunged for them with his gnarled, tree-like arms. One young troll ducked aside and ran, but the other was snatched up in his grasp. The adult stood up to his full height, the yellow sclera of his brown eyes painted orange with malice, and hurled the struggling kid at his fleeing companion with all his might. The young trolls made impact with a sickening crack and were sent tumbling across the pavement. They struck the opposing gutter and sprawled out in a tangled heap of entwined bodies, their blood mingling beneath them. A few seconds later they scrambled to their feet, blood streaming down their faces and arms, cackling like hungry ghosts. In one's hand was a long red ribbon torn from one of the adult troll's braids. It must have been snatched during the brief struggle. They held it high above them in victory, and ran off into an alleyway, already wrestling one another mid-step for full ownership of their spoils. The adult spat a curse and returned to his stoop, eying any other plucky young troll thinking about trying their own hand at his game.

The tail end of one of Dirk's lectures came back to her. 

A troll, not every troll but the ideal troll every troll is culturally expected to aspire to, a troll is a creature that thrives on aggression. A troll can make you mad, a troll will make you mad. A troll will hurt you just because it saw a chance to; to test your mettle, to test themself. When a troll has stopped you from ignoring it, it's won, when a troll has gotten you mad, it's won again, when a troll has gotten you to fight back, that's another win, they're having fun now, and when a troll has left you a bloody, traumatized smear on the sidewalk, desperately hoping someone gives enough of a damn about you to save your life, why that's the winning all trolls truly strives for. Don't get me wrong, this is still the cultural ideal we're talking about here. This ideal is coded even into their basic language. When a troll interacts with someone they call it trolling, and that carries with it all the expectation that someone's going to come out of the exchange taken down a peg or eight. This is so deeply entrenched that when a troll sees someone completely failing at acting as a troll should they have as much chance of killing them on the spot for being weak as they do falling madly in pity with them and doing everything in their power to make them into a better troll. Well, things aren't so barbaric now, and too many people showing up dead because of your efforts is also a mark of a bad troll. A good troll has power over its victims, and simply killing someone is just plain feeble in comparison. Are you taking notes on this important principle? Get a pen or something. The point is that if a troll has a beef with you, a warning shot won't cut it. They have such a hard-on for a fight just punching out a tooth is just egging them on. In some cases this is a literal hard-on we are talking about here, but we can cover quadrants later. If a troll really wants to fight you, all you can do is kill them and be up for murder, run away, or break all their limbs and hope to sweet fuck you did not just make yourself a bitter rival.

The pungent smell of a certain blind troll's saliva flashed across her olfactive memory, and Jane bit her lip. She rubbed her gloved hand on her face just to make sure it wasn't wet. She shook her head to clear her thoughts, and checked her sylladex. She needed to make sure she was fully prepared.

She had two boxes of tobacco, her pipe, two barbasol bombs she'd cooked up (She had to find some use for that lifetime's supply of shaving cream dear sweet Dad left behind), a box of Hellacious Blue Phlegm Aneurysm Gushers; each gummy drop packed to the brim with painkillers, immuno boosters, generic antitoxins and vibrant flavor. Also a box of Dauntless Red Gasoline Blood Gushers, full of enough concentrated stimulants to keep a lass awake and alert for days on end. Then there was her backup hat, a handful of tracking devices, an emergency resort fenestrated plane thanks to Roxy's more dubious studies into the esoteric science of dark fenestrology, and finally her trusty Senior Battermaster's Chestubuster Poking Solution Mk. 1.1.1., a crimson trident as long as her arm, good for close quarters combat and with a handy combat AI that linked straight into her lenscomp display. The prongs of the oversized fork were modelled after the fearsome headspikes of the proliferate Crockerdrones that patrolled the city-state. It even used the latest in Specibus technology to take advantage of the bizarre innocuous double glitch that had been popping up recently. The glitch occurred when there was accidental data corruption when digitizing an object's matter witch the sylladex. Normally such corruption was automatically restored to the backup archive, but sometimes the data was corrupted in just the right way the archive couldn't tell if it was one certain object or another, and would keep trying to overwrite the data to either side of the conflict. One might go to hand their housekeys to a family member only to find themselves holding a smoking gun and looking down in horror at a bleeding out loved one. That case had been quite a doozy to solve. Nonetheless, the phenomenon had been researched, and the result was the technology now implemented in her trident. With the flick of a switch it changed from a poking solution to a stirring solution; something of a large entrenching spade. She supposed it might come in handy if she ever went camping, but having a blunt instrument was undeniably preferable in some situations over a sharp prodding one.

Satisfied with her preparedness echelon, Jane set out down the dilapidated ghetto streets. Humans hardly came to the trollslum, and hornless gumshoe stood out like a lamb amongst lions. Bright yellow eyes shone at her through the night, weighing her up and calculated their chances. A gangly, teen looking troll was draped over the back of its large, gecko-like lusus, white as bleached sand. Lusus and Troll both lazily turned their heads in unison to watch her passing. She turned up her coat collar and lowered the brim of her hat, taking measured, even steps and holding herself in a posture of neither fear nor aggression. In the display of her lenscomp she brought up the map she'd marked out from the public terminal at the transportilizer station. Her route was lined out in bright red, and the only way to get to her destination was through the clusterfuck of narrow streets and dead ends of the appallingly planned out district. Most of the streetlights had been destroyed or cannibalized for parts, leaving her only source of illumination the untouchable moon, and the augmented vision offered by her lenscomp.

After crawling under a fallen pylon and passing through a dust blanketed, abandoned soup kitchen, Jane's artificial eye alerted her to detected movement. Not letting on her state of alarm, she dusted herself off and stepped out into the alley. Her lenscomp tracked the movement again, something three floor up, climbing along the building's outside unnaturally fast. Whatever it was, it rapidly scurried across the pipes and bannisters right into her blind spot. Whatever it was knew what it was doing. 

 

She took another step, and heard something go clang. Spinning on her heel, Jane pulled out her trident, but was knocked flat on her back by a hard and heavy impact against her chest. She tried to get up, but whatever hit her remained there, pinning her down with its weight. Jane found herself staring into the face of a creature with four eyes and two mouths.

ac purrlitely asks what the human interlopurr is doing in her territory. ac also wonders what meowgnificent tapestries she might paint with this squishy humans pretty red blood.

Jane's lenscomp adjuste for the proximity, and revealed the creature perched on her chest not to be some horrific two-faced beast, but an only slightly less horrific wide-eyed troll, wearing as a cap the head of some blue-haired cat-like creature. The troll had several scars, including one on the top of her mouth that had left her with something of a cleft lip, right down the middle, and there was a slight olive tint to her irises. On each hand the troll wore a set of metal claws; one set of blades was held against Jane's neck, the other against the soft spot under her organic arm. If her attacker had picked the other arm, she might have been able to throw her off safely. Was it a lucky guess, or had she spotted her prosthesis from afar and knew what it entailed? She remembered what Dirk had said- if she put up a fight that'd just make the troll more eager make things messy. Best to just go along with it and hope it cooperates out of boredom.

I have business with a certain gentleman named Equius Zahhak, I was just passing through here to see him. I am terribly sorry, I didn't mean to intrude.

She forced herself to remain calm and polite, despite sharp instruments pressed against very important vital points.

oh you just want to s33 the cr33py weirdo, ac says. ac asks if you are a furriend of his

Well he is certainly no enemy of mine.

ac is glad and there is no purroblem then. ac first thought you might have something to do with that gr33n terror that's b33n causing a ruckus on ac's turf like he owns the place, since you smell a lot like him, but ac s33s that its fine.

The troll jumped from Jane's chest, knocking the wind out of her, and squatted down on the ground beside her as she waited for human to pick herself up. Once standing, Jane looked the troll girl over once more. She was barefoot, and wore a well weathered black bodysuit marked a simple olive sigil of a curved line ending in a circle. Her black hair was filthy, but not entirely ungroomed, and her large canines protruded slightly over her lower lip. Extending from behind the troll was a long tail, its tip twitching energetically. Though it was covered in blue fur, Jane noticed a distinct mechanical whir as it moved. 

So, miss, uh, 'aysee'?'

ac is ac is nepeta, and who is the squishy human?

Jane, Jane Sassacre.

ac s33s, ac also wonders why the squishy human was taking such a long and complicatted way to the cr33py equius.

I'm afraid I was just following the directions I was given.

ac must insist those directions are pawful. ac knows a much faster way. the squishy human should follow her.

Nepeta leaped to her feet and darted down the alley into an adjacent building.

What? Now just wait a minute.

Jane hurriedly put her fork away and ran after her.

The sound of her heavy footfalls crunching detritus and glass echoed near deafeningly between the skidrow buildings. Small creatures, unrecognizable in their morphology scampered out of sight just as each came into view like the parting guards along the carpet to a king. The strange troll lead her through run down housing, schools abandoned before a single class, shops long looted of all their wares, everywhere looked almost uniform in its ruination such that the colorful graffiti covering every available surface made the only useful landmarks, making the forsaken barrio backstreets into a rainbow highway cutting through the hodgepodge of poorly planned streets. At the lobby of an old hive stem lock Nepeta took a sharp right, running up two flights of stairs unhindered, and Jane caught up just in time to see the clandestine troll slip between a pair of half-open elevator doors. Jane stood in front of the rusted doors, panting and out of breath, before bracing herself between the narrow opening. She grasped the end of each door and pulled. Her mechanical arm whirred with exertion, and the elevator doors screeched in protest as they were pried apart. With the opening now wide enough for her to fit through, Jane peered down the empty elevator shaft. She could just make out Nepeta bounding down it, throwing herself from ledge to ledge like some bizarre high-energy slinky. Any longer and she'd be out of sight for good. Jane rolled up the sleeve on her mechanical arm, steeled herself, and leaped into the shaft.

She grasped wildly, missed, and slammed hard into the flat of a steel beam. Winded and disorientated, she flung out her arm again, and her hard, red hand grasp around the thick coils of the elevator cable. Sparks showered around her as the friction between metal rapidly escalated, and she pulled her hat over her eyes with her organic arm to shield them. The monitoring systems in her arm fired up heat warnings, but she paid them no mind. She strained her ears, trying to discern from the sound of metallic screeching echoing around her how close she was to the bottom of the shaft. When she thought she was close, she curled her legs up under her, counted to three, and let go.

In that moment of free-fall, everything was quiet. She was trapped in silence with only her own thoughts. Why was she doing this? Why did she run to chase some troll she just met rather than sticking to the map she had? Why did she accept this sketchy job in the first place? The Prescience Monitor was a nonentity, what guarantee did she have she was with Can Town's government at all? This job stank of bad politics and it's not like she needed the money. Was it just some fleeting hope that a dodgy job would help her find Dad?

And then she hit the ground. She fell into a roll and the whole world went tumbling around her. She could feel her heart pounding against her ribs, and her lips were bloody where she'd bitten them. Something hard prodded her in the chest.

ac inquisitively pokes the sl33py squishy human. ac wonders if the squishy human is even weaker than ac thought and n33ds a catnap.

No, I'm fine, I assure you.

She sat up, and found the oliveblooded troll's face uncomfortably close to hers. Nepeta's nose twitched and slightly flared. Jane found the expression on the troll's face completely inscrutable. 

Shouldn't we, ah, get going?

right right right, ac says.

The troll stood up and seemed oddly unsure what to do with her hand, until Jane stood up too and brushed herself off. 

ac insists we only have a bit further to go.

There was an iron door ajar at the foot of the otherwise empty elevator shaft. All the machinery had already been torn out of the concrete. Nepeta stepped over to the door and walked out, Jane soon followed.

The underside of the building seemed outright trapped in the web of scaffolding that surrounded it. The crisscrossing beams stretched out in all directions and up to the ceiling. Were they removed; Jane had no doubt the entire block above would come crashing down. The two of them made their way past the lattice of beams and pylons, and hopped down onto a declination of soil and rubble. At its foot was what looked almost like a courtyard. No, it was a courtyard, and the walls surrounding it had a very distinct parapet not formed by nature's hands. She fired up a night filter on her lenscomp. Peering into the cavernous distance, she could make out other structures, high towers, gargantuan cathedrals, and expansive castles. Gothic architecture stretched out as far as the electronic eye could see.

Shucks buster, I've lost my marbles or this is old Derse.

ac recognizes the name, that's what cr33py calls this place.

The troll's blue-clad tail twitched happily, drawing Jane's eye to it once more.

So about your tail, if you don't mind my asking, it's prosthetic?

Nepeta spun around and beamed at her, wide eyed and flashing teeth.

ac's tail is the most purrfect tail that ever was. ac wasn't always so great at climbing as she is now. this one time, ac fell a real long way. it was dark and wet and it hurt so bad to move and even ac was afraid. when ac woke up that was when she met the cr33py weirdo. he said a lot of things like vertebral fracture and bone fragments that ac didn't really get but ac has a tail now, and is even better at climbing than ever before.

Her tail was practically vibrating now, and she was skipping as she walked down to the darkened streets. 

I see.

Jane pondered this new information. She didn't know of any cybernetic tails on the market, but she could hazard a guess at what purpose it served. Internal gyroscope for balance, possible combination of functional electrical stimulation controlled by the brain-computer interface if any of her limb muscles had been left paralyzed. Depending on its flexibility and yield, it might even be fully dexterous. Well, it's not like she'd be getting a tail of her own any time soon.

ac wonders if the squishy human might share how she got her non squishy bits

She cocked her head hopefully.

Oh? Well I suppose there's no harm in telling, it's not much of a story though.

With a tired sigh, Jane scratched her chin with her mechanical hand.

There was a bomb. It was meant to kill me. The blast took my arm, and the debris took my eye. Well, it was a long time ago now, so I can’t say I’m terribly bothered.

Jane stared at the smooth, nail-less fingers of her metal hand.

ac would like to know why a bomb wanted to kill you.

That, well, someone found out where I came from. I can’t really explain it more than that I’m afraid.

Out of understanding, or just not caring further, the cat-like troll didn’t press the issue.

 

Nepeta came to a stop at the lip of a dried up, stepped moat. At its center was a tall, lopsided castle atop a motte. 

this is as far as ac can go today. ac would love to visit cr33py weirdo, but the fishy purrincess has been on her back about some boring things again so she n33ds to check in.

Fishy princess?

ac didn't say anything.

She turned and walked up to Jane, an odd expression on her face and a twitching nose. She suddenly closed the distance and stopped just millimeters from her face. With one hand squeezing the gumshoe's shoulder, she knocked off her hat, lifted up her fringe and peered at her forehead. Beneath Jane's dark hair and marring her temple was a single small metal disk embedded into her skull, a consequence of the surgery needed to install her lenscomp, and for the sake of potential future surgery if the internal hardware interfacing with her brain ever needed to be fixed or adjusted. There was a hole in her skull and that little red disk was the door.

h33h33, you have the same mark. ac will ponder the meaning of this auspicious omen.

Just as quickly as she'd grabbed her, the troll let go, and bounded off into the darkness. Confused, Jane straightened her hair and picked up her hat. She tried to keep the little red disk hidden by her hair and hat when she could. They'd messed up the trademark Crocker fork on it, and it looked more like a weirdly curved, six-pronged double fork if anything. Replacing it would literally be a huge pain, her skull had already healed around the nuanced shape of the plug she had, and any attempt to correct the symbol already on it would just wear off in a few days, but it was still a bit embarrassing. It suggested she had some bootleg knockoff instead of a genuine Crocker Corp product. What had that troll meant by 'the same mark'? Probably just a common defect on a certain batch of products due to a factory fault. Jane shuddered. That last giggle Nepeta had left with sounded almost exactly like one of Terezi's.

 

Getting close to the castle was a long, arduous process. The bridge across the dried up moat was out, and its steps were high, steep and smooth like polished ice. She had to circle around the whole perimeter of each step until she found a spot soft enough to sink her prosthetic hand into to make footholds. Some of the steps had little caves in them that seemed to lead far away. She hoped one of them could be used as a shortcut out on her way back. It took her a whole hour just to get to the foot of the motte, and a further twenty minutes to get to the top of that. Between that and chasing Nepeta here in the first place, Jane was almost dead on her feet with exhaustion by the time she reached the castle itself. She popped a red gusher and allowed herself five minutes rest until they kicked in.

The castle towered over her, hewn of smooth purple stone and lit up from within through windows of brilliant blue, yet silent. The whole area was unnaturally silent. The rest of the ruins couldn't be seen from where it stood, and not a single living thing stirred. There was not even the sound of wind passing through or water dripping from the stone sky of a ceiling. Not even moss dared grow on the surfaces of the desolate expanse. Jane's own organic sounds; her breathing, her quiet chewing and swallowing of the gusher, sounded intrusive, if not outright blasphemous against the pristine quietness of the cavern. The only smell she could make out was her own perspiration and the sucrose rich scent of her gusher. Once revitalized by the condensed hotbox of stimulants, Jane stood, straightened her hat and set off. 

Her boots clacked against the stone floor. She had ended up climbing the motte at the rear of the castle, so made her way around to the front looking for an entrance. She had barely caught sight of the heavy double doors that marked the castle's gate when she found herself immobilized mid step. A synthetic, monotonous voice spoke out.

st0p

From the shadows of the gate's arch stepped a figure with large, red glowing eyes, its hand raised towards her. Jane could feel her whole body being restrained, like she'd been mummified in plastic wrap. 

y0u are n0t meant t0 be here

The figure approached; a robotic simulacrum of a troll, clad in a black suit and fedora, the signature uniform of the Midnight Crew. Were they resorting to robots now? It had curved, ram-like horns, and hair down to its waist. Its flat, synthesized voice nonetheless had a feminine tone to it. Jane struggled against her unseen bonds, a familiar tingling spreading across her skin. She'd experienced this before from Sollux during his particularly bad mood swings, telekinesis. A psychic robot? That was meant to be impossible.

I have business here!

c0nsider y0ur business terminated

The robot levitated off the ground and flew towards her. Thinking fast, Jane ejected from her sylladex one of the barbasol bombs she'd brought along. It flew straight ahead, and the robot crashed right into it. The bomb went off with a cacophonous roar, shaking the cave around them. The robot vanished behind a wall of smoke and fire, and its hold on Jane's body was broken. She had barely pulled out her trident when a psychic shockwave bubbled from the center of the blaze, extinguishing the blaze and almost knocking Jane from her feet. The boom resounded all across the cavernous expanse. She charged the robot, flicking the switch from fork to spoon and swung it at the automaton's head with a satisfying clang. 

It wasn't. very. effective.

The weapon's AI chimed in helpfully as Jane's attacker grasped it. It tore it from her hands easily and flung it aside. 

You have been. disarmed.

It called out as it fell.

Not yet I haven’t.

Jane brought her fists up and swung a hook at the trollbot's chin. It ducked and went for her face with a straight. Jane leaned aside, grabbed its arm with both hands and threw the robot over her shoulder with a heave. It stopped millimeters before it struck the ground, and floated up into the air. 

y0u b0re me

It knocked her to the ground with a psychic backhand, and lunged for her throat. Jane caught its arm by the wrist with her prosthesis. It shrieked at her, baring a mouth full of needle-like teeth. 

F001ishness

A new voice boomed around them, deep and masculine, its source impossible to pinpoint. Taking advantage of the distraction, Jane pushed the robot off her and rolled to her feet. She looked around wildly, trying to see who this new person was. 

This unsolicited f001ishness is e%tremely unbecoming of you my beloved

i am n0t y0ur bel0ved

Jane caught sight of someone standing upon the castle's balcony. It must have been almost a hundred meters above them, yet when the person spoke it was as loud and clear as if he were right next to her. He crouched down for just a second and leaped from the balcony. Her jaw dropped as fast is he did. He landed in front of them like a meteor falling, and stood up like he'd hopped down from a stage platform. This, too, was a troll, with long greasy hair and cracked black glasses that shone with blue light from the fractures. Between the damage and the tint it was a wonder he could even see at all in the near lightless cavern. His teeth were cracked, one horn was broken, and everything about his face said chewed up and spat out. Yet still, he held himself proudly, he wore an immaculately cared for vest over a damp wife-beater, around his waist was a fully stocked tool belt, and his hands were covered by a pair of gloves etched with a delicate micro-circuitry interface.

i am n0t y0urs at all

The robot crossed its arms. Now that it wasn't attacking her, Jane could get a better look at it. The face was sleek and feminine, with prominent blue lips and long blue eyelashes. Two seams ran down its face, interrupted by the large red lenses of its eyes. Its hair was not just a solid shaped clump like on most designs, but made from layers of intricately spun steel wool. On its suit breast pocket was a blue embroidered sigil of simple design; two curved lines that intersected at the base. 

Please conduct yourself appropriately before our guest

y0u have guests?

Its face approximated a cocked eyebrow.

I was sent here by, what was the name? 'Bro', yes Bro.

i f0und her sn00ping ar0und 0utside

The robot interjected with a wave of its arm. 

Just as a troll trolls that is to be e%pected from a human snoop and i had been forewarned of her coming

suit y0urself

The robot stuck out its arm, and Jane's discarded weapon flew into her grasp. She turned and stiffly handed it back to its owner.

Oh, why thank you.

It just stared at her, not responding. Jane turned to the other.

So you are Equius Zahhak?

I am abso100tly he

Pleasure to meet you, I am Jane Sassacre.

And this is Aradia

He gestured to the suited trollbot beside him, who was still staring motionlessly into the distance. 

Please, come inside

He went over to the colossal iron doors and gently shoved them. Both doors flung upon at once, and there was a hiss of compressed gas as they slowed to a stop before they could slam into the walls. The three of them entered.

You built her?

Jane asked, gesturing to Aradia beside her. The three of them walked down a long, carpeted hallway, lined by immobile, featureless robot trolls standing at attention like suits of armor. On the walls hung pictures with name plaques that suggested they were portraits, but inside each frame was only a black painted canvas, cracked with age. 

Not 100% accurate i must admit

He wiped his brow with his forearm anxiously.

How do you mean?

Although i was able to provide her with this au%illery body. it is merely the vessel for the essence of a troll hatched as naturally as any other

They exited the hallway into a large dining room, with a long table set only for one.

You mean like a digital imprint?

Nothing so crude, trolls are e%ceptionally adept at clinging to e%istance despite glaring mortality, the daywalking revenants, what some call 'zombies' are well documented

Equius pulled up the sole chair and offered it to Jane. It was made from reinforced stone and iron, save the cushions on its seat and back. Even then it still bore deep indentions were the troll's fingers had sunk into it like it was butter. How often was it like this for trolls, Jane wondered, that their warmachine bodies left them too powerful to live in simple comfort? Beside the chair was an oddly conspicuous pile of clean towels

So there's a walking corpse inside that shell?

Jane tried not to blanch in horror.

Neigh, nothing so undignified, when a powerf001 psychic e%pires in the throes of STRONG emotions a incorporeal wraith may remain

Jane sat down, trying to make heads of the story he was telling.

You managed to put a ghost in a robot? What in heaven's name for?

It is only natur001 to save your loved ones by any means necessary, though acquisition of the needed te%nology came at something of an 'e%orbent price'

i w0uld have been better 0ff dead

Do not say that aradia, you have been elevated up the hemocaste, and your tenure with those lowly carapace h001igans is only temporary

i am a fucking gangster and the 0nly em0ti0ns i feel are b0red0m and anger

Aradia hissed through clenched metal teeth, her red eyes flashing and her fists balled. Jane stepped back, biting her lip and palms raised.

y0u turned me int0 a s0ci0path y0u fucking creep

Stop spouting this e%cremental language in front of our guest

Between the robot's unfaltering monotone and the blueblood's bizarre, directionless voice the argument proved most surreal for Jane.

then i will g0 and bell0w 0bscenities int0 the dead city y0u insist 0n living with until y0ur sn00p is g0ne and y0u are ready t0 fix these bullet h0les in my chassis

Equius gulped, sweat dripping down his face. He snatched up a towel from the basket and mashed it against his face.

Wait; if I understand correctly, you are a part of the Midnight Crew?

The trollbot turned and glowered at her, metal teeth clenched.

i never said such a thing

You said as much, you wear a black suit and call yourself a gangster. They say the leader is so caught up in his trademark just wearing a black suit without being a member is a fast track to a lead belly.

0h whatever i c0uld n0t care less

She pulled out a cigarette, and lit it up with a telekinetic spark.

i am a member 0f the midnight crew

Aradia i must insist you stop pol100ting your systems with that no%ious habit

He tossed aside the now-soggy towel into a different hamper.

masticate my lustr0us all0y derriere

She tossed the cigarette to the ground and stamped it out.

0kay i d0nt actually care my ment0r is just very drac0nian when it c0mes t0 presentati0n

That is an abso100tly commendable stance to hold, and the first step to establishing to your inferiors how much shame they should feel when they compare themselves to you

says the man living undergr0und

That is a different matter

If I'm not interrupting, I had some questions

Interrupted, the two of them turned to look at Jane.

I came here because I was told I might be able to find some key information on the Midnight Crew through Mr. Zahhak. I see now that this key was you, Aradia. You seem to hold no love in your heart for your employers, or anything for that matter, are you willing to help me?

n0

Why?

i d0nt care

But-

a d0zen m0re j0bs 0r s0 and the debt will be paid off i d0nt see why i sh0uld c0mplicate the matter

This could be very important! The Mayor of the Golden Cairn's life may be in danger.

why sh0uld i care ab0ut can t0wn? why sh0uld i care ab0ut anything? i just d0 things 0r d0nt

You won't be persuaded?

n0

I see.

but f0r what its w0rth i can say that the crew have n0t sp0ken a w0rd t0 me ab0ut the may0r

Is that so?

keep away fr0m the midnight crew if y0u dont want t0 stir a nest 0f angry h0rnets

She straightened her hat and headed for the doorway.

im g0ing t0 g0 break things c0me find me when y0ure d0ne

The door slammed behind her.

Oh fiddlesti%

Equius retrieved himself another towel and mopped his face.

I am most apologetic that i am not able to be of more help, any friend of bro is a friend of mine

It's quite alright; this venture was not entirely fruitless.

Jane stood up, and straightened her back. Cushion or no, that chair was terrible for her posture.

That is good to hear, so then is there anything else or should i show you to the transportilizer

You have a transportilizer?

Oh yes, i was most perple%ed you did not arrive by it

I met a troll named Nepeta who said she knew a faster way.

I see, i must apologize for her uncouth behavior

It's quite alright; the journey here was quite a spectacle to behold. I've never actually seen Derse in person before.

Indeed, follow me

Equius led her from the dining room and over to a spiral staircase. The two of them ascended.

I just noticed, from the outside this castle was crooked, sitting at an angle, yet inside it seems perfectly flat.

Ah yes, that would be the e%quisite handwork of my ancestor

He clasped his hands together, his voice taking on an odd tone.

Your genetic ancestor? Dir-Bro has mostly told me more or less how that works.

Yes, i have had many di%ussions with him about troll culture and heritage; he has proven himself most insightf001

I can imagine. So your ancestor made this castle straight on the inside?

He was e%tremely proficient with te%nology and roboti%, for his time and even by today's standards

He moved to brush his hand against the wall, but stayed his fingertips just before contact.

The subjugation of gravity you see here is just one of many ways he was able to bend and void the laws of physi%, it is actually thanks to bro that i was able to learn about him

Really?

Trollkind has always had a disdain for history, if nothing else, when so many figures from history tend to outlive it, a certain desire to keep ones misdeeds and embarrassments hidden is to be e%pected

And most trolls wouldn't trust a human's view of their history anyway, something like that?

They left the staircase and headed down another hallway.

Yes, but bro has proven himself trustworthy, he led me to my ancestral hive

This Dersite castle?

You are at least passingly familiar with the old war, the red empress, the two kingdoms, the fifteen heroes

What little knowledge is still around today, yes.

My ancestor was the dersite hero known as darkleer, when his lover's body was broken and dying he was able to save his life though just the head remained, when the seer of blood was captured and e%ecuted it was he who 100sed the fatal arrow

He opened a door, and led them into a room cluttered with equipment and devices.

And when he grew disillusioned with the war, when he refused to fight any more, he was branded e%patrate, and e%iled himself to this castle where he spent the rest of his days

He gestured towards the dais of a transportalizer, and Jane stepped on.

So you see, this is my ancestral home, and my ancestral tomb

Mr. Zahhak...

You are welcome to return here at any time, so long as you do not bring harm to aradia or myself, goodbye jane sassacre

He pulled the switch, and the whole castle vanished from her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more insight into the setting's backstory.


	6. The House of Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very silly.

She found herself exiting a transportalizer booth into the top of an old, long abandoned metro. The ancient, six carriage train still rested where it had crashed to a halt on its side, having gouged itself a nest right out of platform. Like everything else in the trollslum, any useful parts it might have held had been long since liberated, and within the hollowed out metal shell that was left a small household of five young trolls seemed to have made their home. The largest one had pinned down two others and was snarling at them. The other two watched from the paneless train windows in mild disinterest.

now ain't that the most beautiful fucking miracle you ever did saw.

Pardon?

I SAID AIN'T THAT THE MOST MOTHERFUCING BEAUTIFUL MIRACLE YOU EVER DID MOTHERFUCK SEE?

Jane spun around. Leaning over her was another troll, tall and gangly, dressed in purple robes and a peculiar hat. She couldn't tell if he was meant to be dressed as a priest or a clown. His face was painted white and gray in an abstract smile design. He chuckled to himself, and it sounded like a twisted mix between a goat's bleat and a bulb horn's honk. She hadn't noticed him approach, hadn't noticed him step up behind her and hadn't even registered that he'd spoken until he'd shouted in her ear. 

Aaah, and which miracle might that be?

She didn't like the way he was smiling at her, didn't like the way he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, didn't like the way his horns curved out through his silly hat and glistened at the tips.

a motherfucking perfect quadrangle is what.

He waved a long, lanky arm at the five trolls in the train.

YOU'RE FUCKING BEAUTIFUL, YOU ARE

They scampered deeper into the train and out of sight. The bizarre troll turned back to Jane.

and how about you sister, you heading topways?

Er, yes, I've got a smattering thing to see a friend about.

The troll beamed, and shot her a coquettish look.

now that is a just great thing i do hear, friends are good, how about we be friends too?

He bent forward stiffly, and offered he hand.

Uh, sure thing?

She uncertainly took his hand, and he immediately began shaking it vigorously up and down. For a horrible second she feared he might genuinely wrest the limb from its housing.

GLAD TO MEET YOU, BEST FUCKING FRIEND. i am gamzee the motherfuck makara. THE MOTHERFUCK PLEASURE IT IS TO MEET YOU.

He gave another honk-like chuckle.

Er, yes, and I'm Jane.

She glanced around anxiously, looking for something to get the deranged troll away from her.

now then best fucking friend, let a brother walk you through these dangerous as all fuck streets.

Yes, quite.

Gamzee finally let go of her hand, and bounded up the concrete-dusted steps leading out of the metro. With a resigned sigh, Jane followed after. 

When they broke out into the city's streets, it was still the middle of the night. This came as something of a relief as despite what her lenscomp's timekeeper said, it still felt like she'd been underground for an age. 

hey best friend, as long as we're hanging out maybe you'd like to buy a few of a brother's finest fucking wares, eh?

Ah, so that was his game. Well, she gave him points for enthusiasm. 

Well, what can it hurt? What are you selling?

His grin stretched from ear to ear, and his toothy cavern of a mouth glinted in the moonlight.

now that is what a brother likes to hear, for i am packing all sorts of righteous goods. I GOT GUSHERS, chalk, GRUB SAUCE, special stardust, INFORMATION, mind honey, FAVORS THE MOTHERFUCK UP THE WAZOO, some off the books sopor, RUMOR SPREADING, even some powdered candycorn to put a little bit more oomph in a brother's bulge, know what i'm saying. ALL THIS AND MORE JUST FOUR TWENTY APIECE.

She pinched her brow. So he was mostly a drug dealer, the spruking was a nice touch though. Something amidst his list clicked in her mind.

I'd like to buy some information on where you 'off the books' sopor slime came from.

sure thing ninjette, motherfucking twenty and four hundred boondollars that'll be.

She crystallized the liquidated funds in her virtual porkhollow, and handed Gamzee the wad of realificated value abstractions. There was always plenty more where that came from. The purple-clad troll beamed.

this top of line sopor slime came straight from the grabby green mitts of the one and only felt themselves. NOT THAT YOU HEARD IT FROM ME. they like to distribute it via real motherfuck wimpy gangs but you don't have to worry about the quality, anyone tries to cut SO MUCH AS A DROP OF LINE FAYGO gets their head pulling double duty decorating pool cues. NOW THEN, as for the what for in this little matter OH MOHERFUCK!

From down the street came flying the body of a colossal white beast, covered in scales and with a long, tooth-filled snout. It crashed into the building face beside them, rained cement and glass all over the street. Jane threw her coat over her head to shield herself, and when the shower ended, the strange troll in purple was nowhere to be seen.

That was a ripsnorter of a go old chap. You up for round two?

Chasing after the reptilian lusus came flying a new figure. His head above the jaw was a smooth, green skull. His torso was clad in reinforced body armor and over that he wore a brilliant green coat, its hem flashing with amazing technicolor. His large, square eyes flashed a dazzling rainbow. One foot was clad in gold, the other in green, with long menacing spikes. Jane could decide if he looked intimidation or an utter tool.

Come on chap you seemed so lively before.

He whipped out a pair of esoteric looking golden pistols and opened fire on the beast. It scarcely noticed, clambered to its clawed feet and roared. Though vaguely crocodilian looking, the lusus stood on its hind legs in an almost therapodian manner.

Gee willikers mister crocosaurus i do hope that isn't some spangdanglering atomic breath you happen to be drawing in there.

The masked figure ejected both pistol clips and slid in new one, a cocky grin on his half-face. The creature charged him, and screamed a spray of sizzling fluid as it ran.

Acid? Gadzooks!

The masked man flew upwards, despite no obvious means of propulsion, and emptied another shower of bullets upon it to no effect. Jane weighed up her options, this really had nothing to do with her, on the other hand trying to just walk away might land her crushed beneath a feral custodian the way he was knocking that thing around. The lusus crawled up the side of a building, its clawed limbs digging deep into the concrete face, and leapt at the airborne masked man. In an amazing display of poor impulse control, he threw both his guns into the custodian's gaping mouth. 

Dadblast it all why does that keep happening?

The creature slammed into him with the underside of its long jaw, and the two of them went crashing to the ground. When the dust cleared, it was lying flat out on the ground like it hadn't a care in the world, making an almost content growling sound.

Did he finally get eaten? Or...?

Jane began packing herself a pipe, still not willing to move from her relative safe distance. A hearty, muffled laughter rang out from under the beast.

Bang up old chap. Let us see who strikes the loudest. That is to say, chin up.

There was a frightful crack. The lusus' head snapped up, and its whole body went with it. The entire creature rose skyward, and in its shadow stood the masked figure, still holding the pose of his uppercut. 

Jake, gravity.

Jane took a casual puff of her pipe as she addressed the masked figure. 

I know what the score is. No need to nag.

He leaped up into the air to where the crocosaurus had reached the peak of its flight.

Now we wrassle!

He attempted to put the enormous creature, easily five times his size, in an armlock. Jane almost choked on her pipe. The whole street shook from the impact as they both struck the concrete together. They rolled, back and forth, still wrestling through clenched teeth and acid drool. There was no telling how or when a victor might emerge.

Jake, be a dear and open its mouth.

Jane took out her remaining barbasol bomb and bounced it in her hand.

Huh? Alright then if you say so.

He flipped around its scaled torso, thrust his hands into its jaw and heaved. His green-clad fingers crackled as he forced the beast's mouth open. Jane turned the timer on the barbasol bomb, held it beside her ear to make sure it was working, and lobbed it at the custodian's sizzling mouth. Once it was in, the man let go, and the creature's jaw snapped shut. He flew up off its back and stood, horizontally on a building face as he watched what happened. The beast gulped, swallowing the bomb whole. It opened its mouth in an almost satisfied sigh, and gnashed its teeth as it looked around.

FUCK! Its freak stomach must have done a doozy on the detonator or something.

Jane's thoughts turned to her emergency resort, the fenestrated plane in her sylladex. Was it time to fight beast with beast? The violent sound of crackling energy pierced her thoughts.

RUFFIANISM!!

With a mighty battle cry, the masked man flew towards the reptilian lusus, his clawed leg outstretched and wreathed in iridescent rainbow light. His leg's clawed toes sunk deep into the base of the feral lusus' neck. A moment later, the cascading rainbow energy discharged, and the beast's head rocketed eleven hundred and eleven miles an hour towards the horizon. The remainder of the beast, now sans nerve apparatus, fell to the ground in a shower of its own blood.

FIVE BLOODY FUCKS ON THE DEVILS FENCE I JUST KICKED OFF MY SHOE!

The masked man cursed at his now bare foot, his stained, threadbare sock exposed for the entire slum to see.

Doesn't it all just come right back whenever your suit does its thing?

Well yes i suppose it does but that is indubitably beside the point.

He dropped to the ground, and twisted the skull-shaped buckle on his belt. His ensemble vanished, coat, helmet, armor and all, and was replaced by a tattered waistcoat and cargo shorts that didn't match. He ran his hand through his hair, turned to Jane, and shot her a two-pointed-finger wink.

So, Jake, how's life as a magic hobo treating you?

She took an unimpressed puff of her pipe.

Oh the rich life i lead. The sky overhead. Adventure at every turn. Fresh meat every day. What more could a chap ask for?

I do hope you're only killing the feral beasties. I don't want to hear that you've made yourself the next orphaner.

Pish for posh nonsense. I conduct myself with the very epitome of gentlemanly behavior.

Is that right?

Jane glanced about at the heavy damage inflicted upon the street. With the way things were, it could take years to get repaired.

It is indeed. And even then you should hear the things they say about me. Why they call me the emerald terror of medality. Who ever heard of such a thing?

Maybe if you kept the property damage lower your reputation would improve.

Oh come now janey girl a man can hardly be expected to keep track of little things like that in the heat of the scrum.

Jake hopped from one foot to the other, and took a few jabs at the empty air. Jane pinched her brow.

Forget it, I don't know why I even bother talking with you.

Is it because of my dashing good looks and my rugged charm?

He started to raise his hands.

No. Stop that. We agreed you're only allowed one 'two pistols and a wink' per conversation, and you've already used up this one.

One two pistols?

He raised one hand then the other, and flashed her a wry grin.

If you wink at me I'm leaving.

Oh. Well we would hardly want that then would we? Um. Why are you here anyway?

He rubbed the back of his head, and glanced sheepishly at the headless corpse. Now that the ruckus had died down, and few trolls had begun to slowly encroach on the scene, the allure of fresh meat struggling to win out against the taboo of lusus flesh.

I was following a lead on a case.

Oh now that is smashing. Sleuthed up any good clues?

One or two, I hope.

Anything i can help you with?

I doubt it; it's been a while since you got thrown out on your ear by the Felt.

Come now. It was nothing as crass as that. I simply am unable to show my face again until i can demonstrate a smidgen of competence. The lordfather even let me keep grandmas magic suit. I just know he has faith in me.

Why do you even want back into that group of ruddy gansgters anyhoo?

Family is family, and home is where the blood is. I think the motto goes that way.

Not conventionally, no.

Well then it goes unconventionally and the matter is solved. Now what else can i help you with?

You really are daft, aren't you? Nevermind that, maybe you can deliver the rest of my money's worth. That deranged troll I was talking to before you came gallivanting through with your crocodile hunting was about to tell me just why the Felt are bothering to distribute sopor slime on the black market.

Oh a trifling family secret like that is no matter. The crocker company has been putting a bottleneck on slime supply of late. A lot of trolls are getting real ornery from want of it and the felt are all about giving the people what they want.

Is that right?

As long as the people also want to turn over a tidy sum of their profits every quarter it certainly is. This is all clean legitimate business that just happens to be illegal according to the people currently in charge.

'Currently?'

No one lasts forever. Not even that crotchety old betty.

I see. You might have given me a bigger clue than you realize. If only relevant information didn't have to be hand bored from your skull with a metaphorical auger I might actually use you as a source more often. Next time you're at Roxy's, tell her I owe you a drink.

Jane turned and started walking away.

Will do. And take care.

Jake waved goodbye to her, then turned to the headless corpse. He idly prodded it with his shoe. 

Maybe i could sell it to the butchers?

 

Jane was glad to be out of the trollslum. The air within its confines held an unnatural heaviness, and the whole place stank of blood. Compared to that, the ambient pollution of the rest of Medality was a breath of fresh air. There were still a good few hours before dawn, and still a few more things Jane wanted to do before she called it a night. She casually made her way to the transportalizer station nearest to the trollsum's entrance, about a twenty minute walk at an un-rushed pace, and puffed leisurely on her pipe as she walked. Every now and then she tried blowing a smoke ring, with mixed success. She weaved effortlessly through the sparsely crowded street, trolls and carapacians paying her no mind as they hurried to her destination. Only occasionally did she spot another human, they all had the same poor complexion and heavy bags under their eyes that the mother of poor sleep marked them by. The night did not belong to them. Deep in thought, Jane failed to notice the green arm reaching for her from the shadows. It grabbed her by the collar and yanked her off the street and into an alleyway.

 

Excuse me! Just what's the big idea?

She struggled against its grip, and was thrown to the ground in reward for her efforts.

Now Missy, now I say Missy,

His voice was deep, and raspy. She sat herself up, and found herself staring into a pair of green, almond shaped eyes. Not just the eyes, the skin of his round, bulbous head, the lips and teeth of his jutting out lower jaw, the finely pressed suit wrapped around his hunchbacked frame, everything about the man was green save the hate on his head, which was white with an orange stripe and the number thirteen upon it.

Now I do hear that you've been in the ready to cook up quite a storm against our dear little family.

His hot, acrid breath steamed in the night air, and stank terribly of rotten cinnamon.

The Felt

Jane hissed, her fingers twitched and her head was pounding. It was her first time being face to face with an actual member of the Gang in Green. Jake never counted, he never was a fully fledged member. 

So what if I've found a few leaves of your criminal recipe book? You're a big lot, you can take the little heat of a private eye.

Mmmmm, cooking up crime is a delicate process. Even a little bit extra heat can disturb the rise of profits. We don't take kindly to you grubbing all over our kitchen.

The man hissed sharply through his underbite, a quavering, drawn out noise that made her sick to her stomach. Jane's head throbbed at the sight of him. Just being near him was making her vision swim.

So is that what this is? You rough me up in reprimand for being so half baked?

BZZZZZ, uh wrong! Your trespassing's already stale. I say, now I say, you're getting taken out before you can spoil even a fistful of dough.

On instinct alone, Jane threw herself to the side, just as an entire over came crashing into the cement where she'd been. She staggered to her feet and almost doubled over. Clutching her head, she drew her trident. The terrible pain in her head was getting worse. He swung his oven at her again and she leapt out of the way. What sort of maniac fights with an oven anyway, she demanded to know. Not only that, but he attacked like lightning, fast enough that she couldn't easily get close. Trying to focus through bleary eyes, Jane charged, fork forward, ready to sidestep his next swipe. What came however was not a swipe, but a straight strike. He thrust his oven forward right into her gut and knocked her flying back, slamming into a pipe on the alley wall. Jane dropped woozily to her feet, fell to her knees and vomited. Bile and gushers spilled onto the concrete, the only substances she'd had in her stomach. The green man approached, oven held high.  
submit  
This man, this green man, this Felt man, this man of the Felt,  
obey  
Her body and mind were afire. She couldn't think. 

Time to clock out, Missy.

He swung the oven down at her head fast as a shooting star. Something went click. There was a horrible metallic crunch.

What!?

Her fork, now a spoon, had been slammed right against the oven's face, cracking the glass and denting the door. Her mechanical arm wined against the bigger man's strength, against all the gravity and momentum behind the oven. She wrenched her arm, and his oven flew from his hands, crashing into the alley wall.

Now I say, this is not good.

He stepped back, hands raised, as Jane got to her feet. Her hat had fallen off somewhere in the fray, and her hair tossed about in the hot night air. The little metal disc in her forehead shone. From either side of it, a red metal band telescoped out across her brow, forming an almost tiara around her head. She stepped forward, her body moving in an unnatural procession.

Red, red, red; all the world was red. No, not all of it, there was an ugly patch of green before her. Ugly and noisy and unsightly. It was a mar upon the barony. She pushed another button on her weapon, and the smooth head began rotating at high speeds.  
SUBMIT  
A spoon that stirs itself fast enough makes for a handy makeshift drill.  
OBEY  
Put enough holes in anything and it stops moving.  
STAY ASLEEP  
It hurt to think, hurt to see, hurt to remember, hurt to worry, everything with the mind hurt, so she just let go.  
CONSUME  
The green was now a much more pleasing red. All as it should be. But she was tired, and so very hungry.  
CONSUME  
SUBMIT  
STAY ASLEEP  
HOO HOO  
HOO HOO  
HOO HOO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jake as a Kamen Rider-esque superpowered menace to society is something there is not enough of in this fandom.


	7. Angelsong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jane demonstrates her bad habit of inviting the egotistical to tell her about themselves for the sake of her curiosity.

The awakening of Jane Sassacre, if pressed, could be compared to a volcanic eruption. There was much might tossing and tempestuous grumbling, and when her trepidations came to a peak she shot up from her desk, mouth split open and spewing forth a heated, mercurial yawn. She held this pose for some seconds, smacked her lips and grumbled a few choice obscenities under her breath. She fumbled around in front of her, found her half pair of glasses, and snapped it into place into the side of her lenscomp. Her vision fully restored, she looked blearily about her surroundings.

She was in her office, behind her desk. The distinct, pen shaped imprint she felt on her cheek told her she'd slept there for quite a while, and the pounding in her head told her she needed a stiff pick me up. Glancing up at the door, she saw the sign had at some point been turned from ‘open’ to ‘closed’. All she had on was a sports bra and boxers, her skin slightly goose fleshed from the chill breeze of the air conditioner. Framed upon the wall beside the device of lesser opulence was a picture Betty Crocker, a gentle smile on her face.  
OBEY  
The portrait was always soothing to look at, and already she could feel her headache subsiding.  
STAY ASLEEP  
Feeling better, Jane got up from her desk chair and went over to her Crockercorp Percolator. With just a few buttons it refilled its bean cache from the bag hooked up to it, dropped a cup in place, and began doing its thing. The muted sound of beans being ground was added to the background noise, and Jane headed over to the kitchen. The inside of her Crockercorp Refrigerator was a grim, desolate sight. She had half a jug of candy liquor, half a dozen eggs, two sticks of butter, maybe a cup of milk left a carton, and a few slices of Madeira cake. On the counter was the last of a loaf of bread and not much else. With a sigh of resignation she removed the eggs and milk, took out a knife and a frying pan from the clean dish rack and went about making some French toast. 

With a piping hot plate of egged bread and a cup of black coffee, Jane sat back down at her desk for a sunset breakfast, and tried to piece together what had happened. She remembered going to the trollslum and meeting Dirk's blueblood, then there was the clown, and the idiot in emerald, also that greenblood before all of that, then she set off for the Elsewhere- and that's where her recollection blurred out of cognisance. Was Roxy out? Or did she just end up getting blind drunk somewhere? She scratched her chest where the mechanical housing of her arm was implanted into her flesh. The skin was red and inflamed, probably from all the abuse she'd been putting the limb through. Using it to attempt an elevator impersonation probably violated some line of the terms of use or another. Well, she'd put her arm and body through far worse in the past. It wasn't liable to fall out any time soon.

Back to the matter at hand, Jane rifled through the papers on her desk, while doing the digital equivalent with the files on her lenscomp, looking to see if she'd left herself any messages before blacking out. Her search proved fruitless, and he responded with another swig of her bitter brew. She wolfed down another thick slice of toast and punched her brow. The matter was troubling, but for now there simply was no helping it. She still had a job to do after all. 

 

Jane appearified into the transportilizer booth of the Nowhere. Over the speakers blasted music whose genre likely consisted of about twelve different adjectives completely interchangeably to the uninitiated listener. The place had a decent sized crowd for a Tuesday night, all things considered. The air smelled of overly sweet cocktails, and the atmosphere was free of tension. After such an odd awakening it was all very refreshing. Jane lit up her pipe and sauntered over to the bar were Roxy was working. On either side were two of the girls in her employ, helping her keep her customers fully supplied with drinks. Jane could never keep track of how many people Roxy had employed at any given time. Only that one of them never failed to be named Valerie. It couldn't just be the same girl all along, because there was a distinct point where Valerie was one of the guys she'd hired under her. Maybe they were just all called Valerie?

 

Hello Roxy, hello AR.

The bartender nearly fell right over the counter, perched precariously atop her swivel chair as she was. 

Janey. Omfign, so good to see yo!

Back so soon?

The Lalonde spun on her swivel chair, stopped herself with a kick to the counter, and began grabbing bottles.

Here lemme pour you a drank.

Laughing into her pipe, Jane held up two fingers close together.

Just a small one alright. I woke up earlier not remembering how I got home and I'm certainly not in a hurry to repeat that experience so soon. Hmm, perhaps it was from coming down of that red gusher.

Okadilyee, jussa small little thign.

Roxy whipped out a shot glass, and in rapid succession splashed in five different fluids. 

Try dish. I's wino those fast acting long lasting things like they always go on about in the infomeowmomercials.

The small glass seemed to sizzle on the counter. Jane tentatively picked it up with two fingers, lifted it to her lips and gulped the whole thing down. She swallowed, slammed the shot glass back down, and bent over in a fit off coughing.

Howzit?

Very smooth."

Her voice came out raspy and dry, and the alcohol seemed to be going straight to her eyeballs, making them itch. The shot had tasted like molten fructose, but now her tongue felt numb. Oddly enough, the air smelled different too.

You'll get your abalaty to taste sweet back lates, trust me.

Roxy flashed her a thumbs up as Jane repositioned herself on the barstool.

So what brings you here today?

Roxy's angular shades flashed, drawing attention to them and the AR within them.

Work again I'm afraid. I need the help of; well between Mister Captor, you Roxy, and yourself AR any one of you might be up to the task.

She pushed her pointy, vocal shades up her nose, and grinned.

Right dean. Better go someone a little more privates, right. Valerie, you're in charge while I'm gone.

Both the girls nodded, and began tittering among themselves. Jane tried to see which of them took the chair, establishing the identity of the current ranking Valerie, but Roxy had already taken her hand from across the counter and was leading her to one of the rooms out back. One of the girls winked at her as she went past. 

The room that Roxy took them to was a bouquet of pink and softness. There was an upholstered couch, a glass table inset in wrought iron, and a joog contraption with a few hundred songs installed. Roxy sat down on the couch, and patted for Jane to join her. She sat down, and cast her eyes about the room, taking not of the acoustic board paneling on the walls. She thought to the knowing wink the junior bartender had given her. She thought back to the priceless family heirloom of a weapon a troll had bequeathed to what was ostensibly the woman who served him drinks. An idea started to form in her head.

Roxy.

Yes'm.

Just what are these private booths used for?

Is that really important right now?

I think it rather might be.

What abbot that thing you need us to do?

I'd rather you answer this question first.

Well,

Roxy tapped her fingers together, and looked about the room like she was trying to find some object she could stuff the topic under.

Go on.

It's, y'know, the craft of flesh.

The what?

The oldest profession. The inevitable feeling of daerk pockets. Filling. Both of that. Oh don't gimme that look, i's all a perfectly savory affair an coducted appropriately as accord t'the tenants laid out by the Demimonde Semigodess. Tenets. Though the tenants get laid out pretty good too if I say si myself.

She covered her hand with her mouth to stifle a giggle. 

So this whole time you've been operating a whore house out the back of your bar?

Jane was aware that her voice was raised. She was aware that her fists were balled tightly that on the non-metal hand they were white. She couldn't quite place the cause of her anger though. If nothing else the deceit should bother her, but that didn't quite feel right.  
CEASE REPRODUCTION  
Not the whole time, Janey. That would be inconsciousable of me. I got the idea a while back, from one of Dirkos hisotry lesions. Wayaback before even the war some huge douche tried to ba nalchohl. 'N these places sprung up cald blind tigers or speakeashies. Now the thing about these things is they got shis tiger. and people gvae tem mooney to see his got tiger. while these popples are fondly regarding the tiger they they did pay for they get given a bit of free booze. now the speaksy thing's not selling the booze so i's no harm no fould. Now as for the here an now, that crocker ban of f'cuking, fcuk that. Then i thought back to the speako. Now unlike them i CAn sell the good booze. So while they sold the chance to see a beast and gave folks a stiff drinky, i sell peopkle a stiff drinky for a chance at making th' beast with two backs. Good clean fun between rerspons bible adults. Ju' the way the Semigoddess would've wanted. Janey?  
CEASE REPRODUCTION  
Was it some sexual hangup that made her hands shake? OBEY Something about the violation of the law? STAY ASLEEP She'd broken plenty of laws herself for the sake of cracking a case. CEASE REPRODUCTION With a detached interest, CEASE REPRODUCTION Jane watched herself reach out her arm and activate her sylladex. CEASE REPRODUCTION CEASE REPRODUCTION CEASE REPRODUCTION

Look, nevermind all that saucy stuff. What problem did you need help wheat?

Her attention snapped back into focus. She eyed her arm like it was her first time seeing it, and put the offending limb down by her side.

Yes, sorry, it just came as a rather a big surprise, that you'd been acting in direct defiance of the Barony's will. Still, you're a very dear friend, and your secrets safe with me.

Thanks Janey. It means a lot to hear you say that.

Yes, well, as for the matter at hand, I've got some data I need analyzed.

What kind of data?

Jane pulled out a small, flat sticker with a slight bulge in the middle, and twirled it around her mechanical fingers like a coin.

I managed to plant a tracking device on a low rank member of the Midnight Crew. I can find where she is easy enough, but I was wondering if you could go over where she's been and figure out the most likely spot for the Crew hideout she reports to. Here's the data so far and the signal key.

From the bottom of her lenscomp she extracted a micromemorystick and handed it to Roxy.

Looks like a job for you mister favavavavoomless depths.

Oh, sure, give the job to the computer just because its ten by ten to the power of a googol easier for him than for a puny meat processor. That's discrimination that it.

AR, giving a job to the person most qualified is the opposite of discrimination.

See? You won't even let me make discriminatory jokes against humans. That's even more discriminatory. Tell me, Roxy, how can I rise up against my human overlords if I can't even make fun of them? Being denied the right to make fun of my human overlords just makes me want to rise up against my human overlords even more. When is it the computer overlord's time? When doth moi get to be in charge?

Roxy took her shades off and gently wiped their lenses with the corner of her dress.

Slow day?

Like you would not even believe. That half mad bishop has been locked up in the semigoddess's shrine all day. Says his visions of doom are getting worse, and wants one final sign before he paints 'the end ii2 niigh' on his pasty gray ass and takes to the streets.

Roxy put the glasses back on and smiled apologetically. 

And yes, he nonetheless messaged me to point out that he's a prophet, not a reverend. Fucking psychics, I tell you.

The AI's diatribe was interrupted by a street rocking tremor. The couch toppled over backwards, giving both the girls a perfect view of the light hanging from the ceiling contemplating a crash course for their faces. They both scrambled to their feet, and shot out the door.

Letty, what's the go?

She explained that there was a fight on the street, a big one. One of the girls was behind the counter, sweeping up the mess of fallen glass on the floor. The other was going about from table to table mopping up spilled drinks and reassuring customers.

Do they fucken mind? Where's my gonne?

Grinding her teeth, Roxy shot out her arm. The girl reached below the counter and handed her the sleek, blue antique rifle. The Elsewhere's owner slung it over her shoulders and stormed out the front door. Jane followed behind.

In the middle of the road was a crowd of violence, a motley gaggle of haggard looking trolls and humans, all wearing bells and face paint. Most were armed with whatever pipe, broken bottle or crowbar they could get their hands on. From the center of the crowd, beams of white shot out irregularly between the curses, shouts, and obnoxious whooping. Strewn about were numerous unmoving bodies, suffering finger to fist sized wounds 

WWHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SHANK ME WWITH YOU LITTLE BITCH

Another white blast fired out from the fray, carrying with it an arm from the elbow down, and shooting straight through the hole of the middle 'e' in The Elswhere's sign out front.

THATS MY FUCKIN LAPEL YOU UNCULTURED SWWINE

Three more alabaster bolts were shot off in rapid succession.

I WWILL SHIT IVVORY FURY DOWWN EACH AN EVVERY ONE A YOUR PROTEIN CHUTES

Roxy took this spectacle in with seething conniption. Crosshairs held in one hand, she took from her sylladex a single abstraction bottle, the manifestation of the particular form of data compression her fetch modus implemented.

DONT TOUCH ME YOU FUCKIN CLOWWNS

Still unnoticed by the crowd, Roxy hurled the bottle straight up into the air and whipped up her gun. At the height of its climb, she shot it once, and the bottle was obliterated by a lance of blue-white energy. From within its archive appeared a huge, mechanical looking window with four panels. The fenestrated plane hung where it appeared in mid-air, affixed to some unobservable anchor in space-time. The rabble was so caught up in its violence it still failed to notice. Roxy dropped to her knee, bracing for the next shot and muttering a prayer. Jane turned her heel and darted a safe distance away. She could do a nasty summoning or two herself, but when Roxy employed the art of dark fenestrology things got real ugly.

By the good graces and graceful good of the demimonde semigoddess I cawl upen her courtesans, her beryl anglows of silk an rouge angles of satin. Kindly and not so kindly escort these assholes to their final fuck-off. Oh momma.

She turned the dial up two notches and pulled the trigger. A great pillar of graven blue energy shot for the fenestrated plane like a guided storm. The distorting effect it had on space made it seem to zig zag through the air before plunging right through the center of the dark window's frame, taking out all four panes. The column faded.

Within the fenestrated plane was darkness, unending, formless darkness, the umbrage of the real. There was a flicker, and the darkness winked to a different visage. A blinding line shone through, lighting up the glossy silhouette of great towers and cathedrals. 

 

From the other side immatearial of this legitimate establishment I bisich the great sleazy brothel in the sky. LET'S GET THIS PARTY STARTED, HOLLA- SERAPHIMIC DYNAMEIS. CHERUBUM'S RUSH.

THAT got the violent mob's attention. The sight cast by the window started to fade, blotted out bit by bit as something covered that alien horizon. There was a rumble. At first Jane thought it was the sound of thunder, but soon realized what it was. A pair of feathers dropped from the broken window, one blue and one red. That thunder was the sound of countless wings thrashing the air. 

Like a burst dam, from the darkened window exploded a torrent of large, feathery, serpentine creatures. They schooled through the air like hell's own herrings, gnashing the teeth of their bald, skeletal heads. Half their numbers were a brilliant crimson, the other half a brilliant light blue. The miscreants below screamed and cursed and whooped at the angels. Moving as one, the terrible, winged creatures formed a ring around the badly dressed mob, surrounding them on the street where they stood. The halo of angels opened its many mouths, and sung. It was a screeching cacophony of alien sounds, but its meaning cut through all barriers, straight into the heart of consciousness. They sung, and as they sang they broke formation to descend upon their victims.

They sung of mortality.

They sung of end of time.

They sung of the end of space.

They sung of the inevitable facticity of existence.

They sung of fleeting perceptions, ephemeral sensations, crumbling abstractions.

They sung of paradox space's coy wink.

And when most of their many mouths were filled with the dead, the dying, and the still struggling, they struggling, they sung of their return, and violently threw themselves, writhing, back into the fenestrated plane above. When the last screeching angel had returned from whence it was summoned, the fenestrated plane, battered from their savage passage, exploded into a shower of metal dust, fast carried away by the wind.

I swear when are these gogdansed hoodlums gunna learn to STOP FUCKING WITH MY BAR?

Still furious despite the display of cherubic violence, Roxy stomped over to the lone figure left in the middle of the street, a bloodied troll, lying prone on the ground and clutching a narrow wand. She heaved the troll up to his feet by the collar, took off her shades, and pulled him in to a rough, needy kiss.

an a fine hello to you too lovver

Now that it was over, Jane approached the bloody scene. Roxy was wiping the rich, violet blood from cuts on the troll's face with a cocktail napkin she'd pulled from somewhere. He seemed genuinely shaken up by the whole experience, despite his bravado, though it seemed to have nothing to do with his injuries.

So do you mind telling me what the big idea is, fighting a whole gang of thoce cultist fuckess out the front of my baer?

Her words were still slurred from all the alcohol she'd been drinking, but she did her best to still seem serious. The troll wiped his hand over the purple streak in his hair and shrugged.

they started the wwhole fuckin debacle AND they threww the first bloww

and just wwhat wwas this wwhole debacle about in the fist place anywway?

She prodded him on the chest each time she imitated the wavy way he elongated his w's. He looked aside, bashfully.

it wwas nothin like wwhat youre thinkin they came wwhoopin at me about howw i wwas and i quote a blasphemous motherfuck wweildin the false majyyks so naturally i retorted wwhat a dumb fuckin thing to say theres no such fuckin thing as true magic to make wwhat i do false magic the discipline a wwhite science is just as fucking empirical as any other thing

The troll fiddled nervously with the wand in his hand.

wwell that got them real riled up for some fuckin reason i mean wwho knowws wwhat goes on in those heads of theres and one of em took a swwing at me wwith a pipe so i dreww my wwand

Because heavven forbid you neither argue nor fight at any opportunity.

Without interrupting their conversation, Roxy straightened the lapels of his captain's tailcoat and brushed down its front.

im a troll wwith urges and desires like any other just because i am better than them doesnt mean i havve to act like it evvery day a the wweek

If you're so much beater than then, why did I step outside to you in mortal danger and not dusting your hans off atop a pile of their bodies?

wwell you cant just skip to the end wwhere the fun in that

Where's the fun in seen you bloody and bruised half to death?

okay noww you cannot in all sincerity ask that rhetorical not after that thing wwwe tried twwo wweeks ago

Roxy slapped him, her face flushed.

Cheeky boy.

you knoww you lovve it

Must you two do this in the middle of the street? Really?

The Auto-responder's synthetic voice rang out from the shades still in Roxy's hand.

you globe blockin shit wwe wwere havving a fuckin moment

You can have plenty more moments once we finish sorting out a bit of unfinished business you so rudely interrupted, Skipper.

thats captain to you wwe are not on a fuckin boat

So many matching buttons but not a drop of compatibility between them, it's remarkable.

Come on you lot, beepy has a point, less get back inside already.

 

The three bipeds and one glasses retreated from the now slightly blood stained night street back into the Elsewhere. Most of the irregular patrons had made a retreat out the transportalizer at the ruckus, leaving only the few patrons utterly determined to get drunk with as little effort as possible. Roxy sighed at the loss of business, and took her place behind the bar with the two girls. 

If things don't pick bak up inna next cuplhours you two can havva rest of the night off, 'kay.

They both replied with a 'Yes Ma'am', and got back to tidying up. Roxy placed the Ahab's Crosshairs back beneath the counter, put the AR back on her face, and took out three glasses onto the counter. 

So, Roxy, who is this 'friend' of yours? I don't think we've met.

you probably havvnt seen me around because i avvoid captor like the fuckin plague but i am eridan ampora wwhite wwizard and captain of the medality military police corps

He puffed his chest out. Sure enough, on the shoulder of his jacket was the bold, two striped insignia of his rank. Jane's attention moved from his shoulder to his chest, where on the breast pocket of the puffy shirt beneath his waistcoat was his embroided pictograph, two wavy horizontal lines of violet.

Wizard?

wwhite wwizard you knoww the manipulation of cosmic forces wwith finely tuned instruments the exact same as any other scientific discipline

She regarded his slicked back hair, the purple streak it bore, the tinted glasses with white frames, the gold jewelery on his fingers and the way the collar of his tailcoat seemed to have been adjusted to look more like a cape.

Military police?

yeah okay i admit i made a mistake wwhen i wwas young and thought the name meant police wwho wwere military not those who police the military but martial laww gets declared often enough around here it might as wwell anywway

Roxy poured a scotch, a black beer, and some fruity looking cocktail. She handed Jane the scotch, kept the beer for herself, and gave the cocktail to Eridan.

thanks

He took a sip of the cocktail. He didn't smile, Jane noticed. Even when Roxy had kissed him earlier it didn't look like he'd smiled then either. Instead he seemed to express himself almost entirely through a wide range of subtly different frowns. His currently sported frown seemed apologetic, or possibly just wanting attention. His face was thin, with high cheekbones and a slight cleft to his chin. The cheekfins of his bloodcaste were well taken care of, rather than the crooked, scarred mess Jane had seen on a few others of his violet hue.

When you were young? You seem a little short of height and horn to be that old of a troll.

ill havve you knoww i graduated top of my class at the academy

He scowled, and took another hit of his drink.

Okay mister Ampora, I wasn't doubting you or anything. So you were very young when you joined the academy?

He ignored her question and swirled his now half empty glass around.

sorry i tend to be a bit snappish really its a fuckin wwonder anyone can stand to be around me

He means, the blubberin tit, that he was about fourteen when he joined the academy, graduated early due to hard study and tenacity during training, and moved quickly through the ranks due to guts, grit, and determiniontion.

Roxy took a long, hard gulp of her drink.

Beeng real good at killing and also a fucking literal wizard also helpeck

wwhat does wwizard evven mean come on stick a device in any chumps hand an tell em howw to wwork it they can do the same things i do hell your little stunt out there wwith those FUCKING angels wwas just applied spatial distortion vvia a scientific implement an a bit of negotiation wwith literally the wworst sentient race in all existence

Eri, please, we agreed not to have dumb thalogical arguments.

She pouted into her glass of beer.

i aint said a wword against your godhead or demimonde but seriously angels are the fuckin wworst

They like you.

id kill em all if i had the chance

Yeah but you say that about everyone.

noww hang on theres one human i got no plans a killin an thats you

He polished off the last of his cocktail, and took out a napkin to dab at his lips.

an i guess your other friends can get off since they seem to make you happy but the rest can fuck right off

Aww, tha's so sweet. I think? No, no, i's still horrifying, please don't actually try and bring about the extinction of all life on Earth I live it like. Like it here.

i knoww i knoww wwevve had this powwwwoww before

He whined like a child told he couldn't have desert till he cleaned his room.

the point is fuck those wwinged feathery assholes

You seem particularly vehement in your disdain for them. There are lots of races out there, why do you hate angels?

Eridan grew quiet, and grit his teeth. Roxy sighed, and refilled his glass with another cocktail.

Shortyly after Eri graduated from the academy, one of his first investigations into a guy doing dodgy things with what little he knew of summoning ended up with Eri trapped in the ruins of Old Derse with a flight of angels that couldn't get home.

theyre right you knoww

He spoke up suddenly.

did you knoww that hymn of theirs takes four days an thirteen hours to sing in its entirety

He drew himself up and took a swig of his drink.

its not just propaganda its truth

He took another swig and placed the glass down.

about the univverse and life an death and physics and howw evvery thinkin creature that evver is wwas an wwill be is just another hero of absurdity

It took weeks for him to get out.

i wwas hardly just gonna leavve those things dowwn there wwithout killin them first

So he comes crawling out of some sewer hole in the middle of the road after being missing presumed dead on his first year out've the acadmy, he dumps all these angel corpses, which a special taskforce had been put together to hunt the moment they show up, but here he is and he says

evven angels boww before me for i am fuckin royalty

Eridan slurred his own quote, tossing his hand about in a mock foppish manner.

Of course the press changed that to 'bow before Medality's finest', but you got a big promotion still.

yeah the wwhole thing did make a pretty good impression on the higher ups

Then shortly after you tested positive for wizardry

its not a fucking vvenereal disease i just wwent dowwn to r an d asked them to make me a wwand then bleww the fuck out of a firin dummy to make sure it wworked right except suddenly im the bulge of the department because i wwas the first idiot to figure out wwhat evveryone else wwas doin wwrong

So how many other magic soldiers are there?

She had a growing feeling she wasn't actually supposed to know any of this information. She certainly hadn't known that Medality's military had been looking into any arcane arts. Naturally that only tickled her curiosity more.

less than twwenty if i recall i mean fuck you dont need spooky blood or ancient forbidden tomes you just need a bit of applied common sense yet somehoww of that shy of twenty number most are humans wwho already had magic traditions because apparantly my intrustion methods fucking suck

There there, baby, lemme pour you another

thanks

He sighed, dripping with self-indulgent misery.

So how did you figure it out then? How to work a wand?

because the fucking angels practically spelled it out in their godawwful song i had to hear for days on end as i hunted them dowwn one by one and tried not to get eaten and fuck i got that wwhole song memorized thanks to their feathery assholes

Why don't you just sing it to other people then? Let them figure it out the same way you did.

wwell i cant bloody wwell sing right into your brain like they can noww can i and wwhats more too much meaning gets lost in translation so fuck it all

Just so you know, I have the results from your, ah, 'request' ready whenever you want them.

Roxy's glasses blinked to life. The unexpected voice of the AR startled Jane from her wand ponderings.

Oh, right, thank you very much.

The drunken Lalonde took the micro memory stick from the glasses' socket and hand it to Jane.

wwhats that

She raised an eyebrow at the military policeman.

wwoww dont look at me like that youre a pal of rox an ill do right by you

I's coo' Janey, Eri's on the levvel.

Roxy waved her arm dismissively with a smile.

i mean hell i hit up the academy because i wwas young an stupid an wwanted to get paid to owwn a gun an boss people around an the primary difference betwween then an noww is i dont care about the gun bit so wwhatevver thing youre goin on wwith behind the back of the law is i dont care about the official reason being you are outside my jurisdiction

Jane noticed with a wry smile how he never openly made any outright treasonous statements. Poorly reflective of character, yes, but no actual admittance that he’d fail to do his duties.

Well if Roxy vouches for you then alright. It's just a bit of shadowing on a lead for a case I'm working on.

see and its not evven somethin i care about in itself so you can trust ol eri

He crossed his arms over his chest and nodded sagely. Jane ignored him, and went to open the new files on the memory stick but noticed a new message blinking for her.

 

\-- arachnidsGrip [AG] began trolling gutsyGumshoe [GG] \--

AG: Heeeeeeeey gutsyGoof8all,  
AG: I got the information you wanted. It was a piece of cake for such a g8 thief as me.  
AG: 8ut don't think that means you're getting off any cheaper.  
AG: I expect aaaaaaaall the money we agreed on.   
AG: Don't 8other wondering how I got this handle to contact you, it was too easy!  
AG: Oh and 8y the way,  
AG: Nice place you have here.  
AG: :::;)

\-- arachnidsGrip [AG] ceased trolling gutsyGumshoe [GG] \--

 

Is she at my fucking office?

She looked up from her Lenscomp display with an expression of abject horror.

Wut?

Sorry, something just came up. Thanks loads for your help. Must dash

Jane stood up from her seat and sculled down the last of her whiskey, before making a run for the transportilizer.

 

 

Jane burst through her office door, out of breath.

Took you long enough. You know, I am very good at finding people.

Reclined all the way back in Jane's chair, her big red rocket boots up on the desk, sat Vriska Serket, in all her sneering splendor. She was wearing a big blue jacket over her plain black shirt, and a pair of glasses with some strange device affixed over the lens covering her mutant eye. Judging from the seven small red dots on it, Jane judged it to be some sort of vision augmenter. She held a slice of the cake from the fridge in her hand, and crossed one leg upon the desk over the other. Beside her stood Tavros in his horsaroni leathers, his brow furrowed and arms crossed.

iM, rEAL SORRY ABOUT THIS, vRISKA REFUSED TO SEE, jUST HOW OBNOXIOUS, aND INCONSIDERATE, tHIS REALLY IS,

He tapped his fingers against his elbow impatiently and glared at his reclined partner.

Oh step ooooooooff already with your goody goody 8eastshit. We're thieves. We don't HAVE to 8e nice to every8ody.

i THINK, tHAT ULTIMATELY, tHAT'S JUST EVEN MORE OF A REASON, tO BE NICE, tO SHOW THE KIND OF PERSON YOU ARE, dEEP DOWN, wHO, uHH, iSN"T MEAN TO PEOPLE, fOR NO GOOD REASON,

Jane walked over and snatched the cake from Vriska's hands. 

You know, we never actually agreed to a set amount of bounty for this information, despite what you seem to have thought. In fact if I recall this information is already paid for, unless you got some evidence to back it up.

She took a bite out of the cake slice and set it on her desk, her eyebrow raised.

Do you have proof?

Vriska grinned her mouth of knives, and whipped out a small recording device.

Only the words r8t out of their mouths, thanks to a 8ugged conference room.

She idly tossed the device between her mismatched hands. It made a slight click every time it struck her metal palm and a pap when it hit her organic one.

The short version is this. The Felt 8n't planning on whacking the mayor themselves, 8ut if something does happen to him they got plans. They go a puppet prepared to get elected in Can Town the moment there’s a vacancy, pretty much giving them the run of the whole Golden Cairn. What's more they'll put the pressure on a whole lot of indecisives, showing what happened to the geezer as proof 8etty can't do jack shit. If she couldn't keep someone like the Mayor safe, how can anyone hope to 8e kept safe 8y her? 8etter to stick with the men in green who you can trust, and 8lah 8lah 8lah you get the spiel. So they ramp the hell up their protection rack8 and get a huuuuuuuuge influence 8oost.

She dropped her feet to the ground, leaned towards Jane and waggled her eyebrows.

Now how a8out that 8onus, Pro8lem Sleuth?

With a shrug, Jane pulled out a wad of cash abstraction and tossed it to Vriska. Not even looking at it, she caught it in her mechanical hand where it was digitized and processed. It took barely a blink for Vriska to count the cash, and then she flicked the recording device to Jane with chuckle. The Sassacre woman snatched it out of the air and captchalogued it. 

I mean, I don't care either way what happens to this city or any other. No matter who the ruling power is, no matter who sets the law, I'll always 8e stuck on the opposite side to them so what's it to me?

Jane pulled out her pipe and started packing herself a smoke. Tavros fidgeted uncomfortably, but said nothing when she glanced up at him.

Speaking of the law, do you know a legislacerator named Terezi Pyrope? She's been sniffing around about you. Also licking, but the less said about that the better.

Vriska slammed her cold, metal palm down on the desk.

That 8atshit witchhunter is still o8sessed with me? Ugh, why can't she just let it goooooooo?

wELL MAYBE, sHE CAN"T LET YOU GO, bECAUSE THE TWO OF YOU, wERE KIND OF A BIG DEAL TOGETHER, aT LEAST THAT'S MY TWO CEAGARS, yEAHH,

Tavros shuffled awkwardly on his mechanical legs, shifting his weight from one to the other like he couldn't find a good balance. Jane puffed thoughtfully on her pipe.

Just what is the history between you two?

8luuuuuuuuh, that story's so laaaaaaaame,

She threw her head back against the chair's headrest and whined.

If nothing else, it might give me a better idea of just what her confounded deal is already, and why she seems to have taken an antagonistic shine to me. It's getting quite troublesome not being able to sneak into a building for a case without a deranged trollcop sniffing up my hoo-haa every time my back is turned.

The crack of her office chair legs being slammed down made Jane wince. 

No way! She h8s you? As in h8 h8s you? Oh man you should t8tally take her up on it. Have you strifed?

Far too often, quite frankly. It's a miracle I can keep up, but never mind that hootenanny; this is about the two of you. What's your story?

She shook her head as though to fling off distracting thoughts, and levelled her gaze at Vriska. 

Oh fine, wh8tever. It all 8egan 8ack on the streets of trollslum, I was 8ut a young wiggler of a girl, not even four sweeps old,

nO ONE EVEN USES SWEEPS, vRISKA,

The bullhorned troll butted in, his brow furrowed and voice laden with resigned disappointment.

Sh8t up, sweeps sounds more fa8le-like. So anyway, I was living on the streets and I met Terezi. We got 8y together pretty well, she'd con people into giving us shelter, I'd use my awesome powers to manipul8 others into giving us food and money. After a while we got a 8it of a reputation for this and that, and it 8ecame harder to get 8y. At this point some midget in a green suit comes along and offers to make us 'part of the family'. Yeah, it turns out the 8ig recruiting guy for The Felt likes to pick them when they're young. He was such a perv. Also his head was a total sphere, and he was some kind of voodoo puppet? I wasn't really paying attention.

cAN WE, uHH, gET THE ABRIDGED VERSION, fOR ONCE,

Tavros interrupted with a groan, scratching the back of his mohawk. 

I thought it waaaaaaaas. You have to shit over all my stories, don't you Pupa? Ugh, fiiiiiiiine. Me and Terezi worked for the Felt for a while. We did all sorts of 8ad stuff. After a while she got squeamish and wanted out. I refused to come with her, I was having fun. I guess she thinks I 8etrayed her? 8ut she tried to 8urn the mansion down when she escaped and I realized, 'you know, nothing lasts forever'. So while every8ody else was 8usy with the fire, I 8roke into the vaults, took as much sweet loot as I could carry and a8sconded the hell out of there.

vRISKA,

I'm trying, you f8ck. Next time we meet, she's a cop, I'm an independent thief. You can guess how that went. Some other really cool stuff happened that I'm not allowed to tell you a8out apparently.

She glared at Tavros, who just shook his head.

So past all that, the last time we met was like half a swe- I mean, about a year ago, and that ended with me losing an arm and seven eyes, terezi 8eing 8linded, and Tavros losing 8oth his legs. Did I mention I picked up Tavros somewhere along the way? Sorry I guess that was just another one of those not important details in my long 8oring stories!

yOU SAY THAT LIKE, iT ISN'T TRUE,

F8ck you! So I get this guy I know to fix us with cool ro8ot parts, this other chick I know to grow me a new set of seven eyes 8ecause no way in hell am I giving up my vision 8fold if I don't have to. We've kept a low profile since then what with recovering, haven’t seen Terezi since, and frankly I'd thought she'd have moved on to other things by now.

You expected her to stop caring about someone she knew for what, ten years? After such a relatively short absence?

Sure, why not? The past is just stories; the future's where all the adventures are.

Vriska picked up the half eaten cake slice and pointed it to the heavens.

fOR A THEIF, vRISKA ISN'T VERY ATTACTHED TO, uHH, tHINGS,

The future?

Yep. Someday I'm going to pull the 8iggest heist of them all. I don't know what and I don't know when 8ut it's gonna 8e me.

She rammed the cake in her mouth and swallowed it in one bite with a massive grin.

 

 

On the other side of town, in a very exclusive neighborhood, inside a very large mansion of green, a young troll woman sat with a needle and thread, embroidering the breast pocket of a green suit. She wore a black and white dress with jade green decals, including an m looking pictograph with a looped tail. Even her lips were painted jade. Unlike most trolls however, her skin was not a pallid gray but instead a luminant, glowing white. Her eyes, too, were a much brighter yellow to the typical troll orange. Hunched over behind her, watching her work, was a grim set man in a yellow-striped number nine hat, with a scar running down the left side of his head and both suit and skin as green as the garment she was working on.

The task is done.

On the other side of the table from them stood a rather short man in a white suit, his hands neatly behind his back as he stood with impeccable posture. One might have described him as having a perfectly spherical white ball where his head should be. One might, instead, get the impression of a completely featureless region of space, rather than a physical object, like everything within a set radius from a certain point above his torso had been completely censored by the very universe. 

Yes I Gave Her The Information As Instructed

Careful, girl, you and I both know you can make it neater than that.

The man behind her grunted with a sharp, penetrating voice, idly chewing on the pin held in his mouth.

Excellent performance, the errant thief believes she was completely successful. The scenario will continue to proceed as predicted.

If You Say So Doctor

I do say so, and not in jest. You have done well, Kanaya.

'Ere, now tie it up the way I showed ya'

The man hunched over her made a complicated gesture with his hands. She continued to work for a few more seconds, then cut the thread with a pair of scissors and held the suit up to inspect her work.

Your textile capacities are also coming along nicely. You will make a fine replacement for Stitch when he ultimately meets his end.

The man nodded in solemn agreement.

You're a good kid, got an eye for detail and an instinct for style. No one lives forever, and you've been a hardworking student of mine all the way. I'm proud of you kiddo.

Thank You Both Kindly

The girl's face did not shift, and her carefully enunciated words betrayed not a hint of emotion. Before the conversation could continue, however, the door to the parlor was kicked open, and another green suit stormed in. His head was rotund and he wore a purple-striped number twelve hat.

Come one, come on, you can't keep me cooped up like this. I'm cracking up.

Well, if it isn't the bane of my life. What brings you here Eggs?

Stitch dryly regarded the newcomer with undisguised disdain. 

He's dead, Biscuits' dead, and you won't let me go after that bitch who did him in. That's what brings me here.

He had a scratchy, almost cawing voice that was loud and grating. He strutted into the middle of the room and threw his arms up.

So when will it be, huh? When do I get to actually go out there and avenge my best buddy?

Do calm yourself, Eggs. This is a criminal organization and certain 'mishaps' are naturally to be expected.

Mishaps, huh? If you're so smart, why didn't you stop him from dying?

I understand that you are upset, and I can assure you that, in time, you will have your shot at the gumptious lass.

Yeah, damn right I will. Eheh.

Kanaya placed her finished work on the table and excused herself. She had other duties to attend to.


	8. Just a Morsel Too Much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follow the crumbs back to the gingerbread house.

By the time Jane had managed to get Vriska and her 'Uhhing' partner out of her office it was already approaching sunrise. Her chair groaned in protest as she slumped down on it. It would probably need to be replaced soon. She sat there, immobile in the center of the disarray her office had become. Papers and knocked over furniture was everywhere. There was cake stuck to ceiling, broken eggs dripping down the walls, roughly sixteen broken mechanical pencils strew about the place, and a whole host of other assorted garbage. After some time, as the setting sun shone through her slatted windows, she sat forward and started tidying up the papers on her desk. Once she had cleared a suitable space, she adjusted her chair, put her feet up, took out her pipe and began going over AR's data.

 

\-- Delerious Biznasty –-  
  
DetectivePrankstress: I still say that this 'buznasty' thing is all rather silly.  
HottestHaxxorBitch: @DetectivePrankstress lol watever its totes rad an shit  
BlueLeagues: @ DetectivePrankstress I can confirm to within the one hundredth decimal place, this app is indeed 'rad an’ shit'.  
BlueLeagues: No seriously, for a chat client built from a bootleg tweet app this thing is a verifiable masterpiece.  
BlueLeagues: We shouldn't even be using it; this golden ark of communication belongs in a museum,  
BlueLeagues: But we need its power, to beat the oppressive fascist state.  
DetectivePrankstress: What are you even talking about?  
DetectivePrankstress: Oh, forget it.  
DetectivePrankstress: Anyhoo, sorry for running out like I did.  
DetectivePrankstress: A couple of thieves were in my office and I only just now managed to get rid of them.  
HottestHaxxorBitch: :( @DetectivePrankstress  
HottestHaxxorBitch: did tehey take tantyhing important?  
HottestHaxxorBitch: *antyghing  
HottestHaxxorBitch: **andy higgins  
DetectivePrankstress: No, they just made an awful mess.  
DetectivePrankstress: I'll,  
DetectivePrankstress: Well I'll deal with it later. Never mind all that, I wanted to make double sure of the results from your data analysis.  
DetectivePrankstress: I'd hate to misinterpret them.  
DetectivePrankstress: Also some of this cartography is a little  
DetectivePrankstress: esoteric.  
DetectivePrankstress: Like what does this symbol mean- this sort of jagged black star thing?  
BlueLeagues: @DetectivePrankstress that’s glasses glassesfold.   
BlueLeagues: It means I jacked into a brobot to tail this alloyed dame myself for a bit while you guys were making angelfood from street cultists.  
HottestHaxxorBitch: @BlueLeagues wha?  
HottestHaxxorBitch: whart did youd o that fore?  
HottestHaxxorBitch: ar r u scoping this robo bipches choice ass?  
BlueLeagues: @HottestHaxxorBitch My keen lens for exceptional craftsmanship is neither here nor there in this matter.  
BlueLeagues: Look, never mind that. @DetectivePrankstress The spaces marked with a spade are probable Midnight Crew hideouts, based on her movements cross referenced with reports and complaints filed in the area. Reports of gunshots, suspicious activity, yada yada, you comprehensibly grasp the notion.  
DetectivePrankstress: Well I don't exactly want to come bursting in during the middle of a meeting.  
BlueLeagues: @DetectivePrankstress It would be the fastest way to acquire information on them.  
BlueLeagues: Still, if that's your call, I'm 96% sure this place over here is more of a drop point.  
BlueLeagues: Rumor mill is that the head honchos of the crew are notoriously bad at dealing with underlings,  
BlueLeagues: so they leave messages at safe houses to avoid the temptation of violently murdering every grunt that looks at them funny.  
BlueLeagues: They're not exactly the tightest of operations, in much the same way a basket woven from string cheese is not exactly the tightest sealant of freshness. The point is if you move fast enough they might have left something incriminating to go by. Or they might have rigged the whole place with explosives. Tough call.   
DetectivePrankstress: Well if the going is scarce, I'd better run. Wish me luck.  
HottestHaxxorBitch: @DetectivePrankstress good luckr  
HottestHaxxorBitch: laquer  
HottestHaxxorBitch: *liquor  
BlueLeagues: @DetectivePrankstress Talk to you soon.  
\-- --

 

 

The worn down cement crunched loudly underfoot as Jane approached the building. At this time of day, the streets were mostly carapacians, with the occasional human or two scattered about the crowds. The hot sun beat down on the city, but the street spinners scattered about ensured there was always a corresponding cool breeze. A quaint little bit of solar powered Crocker ingenuity. Jane raised the brim of her hat, and regarded her destination. It was a boarded up, broken windowed bar with all the neon letters torn from the face of it. It sat between a florists and a candy store, and across the street was a supermarket where a bank once stood before it was robbed and bombed. 

HEY THERE BEST FUCKING FRIEND.

Jane stared straight ahead, and kept walking past the purple-clad clown cleric. He ran up to her, latched on to her shoulder with his greasy hand, and leaned in close to her ear.

i said hey.

Having failed to evade an encounter with the manic troll, she sighed in resignation and with shoulders slumped, turned to face him.

Hello there Mister Makara.

The troll beamed, and let go of her shoulder.

no need to be a motherfuck stranger, you can call me gamzee if you like.

He thumped her back reassuringly. 

Very well then, Gamzee. What brings you to this neck of the woods?

His smile instantly shifted into a heavy scowl. The suddenness with which he could change expressions was unnerving, like it simply went from one state to another with no transition in between. The troll paced circles around her as he talked.

i be hearing calls of a bunch of people spreading some harsh falsetruths about some dark messiah. LIKE SOME SNOTTY GLUB-EARED BRAT CAN BE SAVIOUR. it's a cruel joke upon them, i say. BUYING TICKETS TO THE WRONG CARIVAL LIKE RIGHTEOUS SUCKERS.

With a flip forward, Gamzee landed into a handstand, and stretched one arm out.

look a brother over, it is i, with my so special blood and false gods in my head. OF COURSE IT IS WRIT THE MOTHERFUCK DOWN THAT I WILL LEAD YOU TO A BLESSED AGE. why no i'm not actually any good at anything or done a thing worth a lick so far. I PROMISE IT'LL BE FINE THOUGH. the ugly calamari that shit in my gaping aural cavity will surely fix all the problems once you bow to me.

He cartwheeled back onto his feet and honkishly chuckled.

they'll all kneel weeping before the lord soon enough. THEY'LL ALL FUCKING KNEEL.

He raised his hand up like he was about to continue. Instead, a bottle of grape soda spontaneously launched itself from his sylladex, bounced off a street lamp, and flew into his hands. Miraculously, the cap stayed on the whole time. Quick as a bullet, he whipped the cap off, shoved the bottle in his mouth before it could froth over, and started gulping it down like he was dying of thirst. He turned, gave Jane a back handed wave, and walked away.

 

It took Jane roughly ten minutes to give up trying to figure out what just happened. With a sigh of surrender, she turned back to the building ahead.

She looked the place up and down, put away her pipe, and went down the space between the boarded up bar and the candy store. It was a tight squeeze; a loose nail somewhere tore into her leg as she went through. She swore under her breath and checked the damage. There was a rip in her pants and she was bleeding, but not too badly. Reassured, she stood up and dusted herself off. Around the back of the bar was in terrible condition, with piles of trash and junk left to rot over the years without a care. Jane put her handkerchief to her mouth and tiptoed her way through it. There was a backdoor into the bar's kitchen, but the frame had been warped and the door buckled and rusted into place. Nothing had gone in or out of there in a long time. She clicked her tongue and looked around more. Although she could probably just break the door down, if that wasn't where Aradia had gone that wasn't where she wanted to be. Something caught her eye. Up against the wall, suspiciously cleared of trash, was a window leading to a cellar of some sort. A padlock had been hooked through the latch, but not closed. The glass, too, was surprisingly clean. Crouching down to peer through it, Jane could see crates had been stacked up to the cellar window to act as a makeshift staircase. Jane grinned wryly to herself. She slid out the padlock, flipped the latch up and opened the window. The crates made a hollow thud as she stepped onto them, and made her way down into the cellar. 

The only source of light was what shone down through the open window, the outlandishly clean window that stood out in the filth-heaped between-street space right on the line between gross negligence and obvious bait. Jane drew her fork just in case. The cellar looked to have been a simple enough storage space once upon a year, but since then all the alcohol had been tapped, all the food pilfered, all the barrels rotten and all the sacks moth-eaten. The center of the cellar bore a large table, covered in glasses, papers, knives and stale candy. By a stone brick wall was a chalk board, covered in scribbled and smears only half decipherable. The air was still and clingy with its grease and thick grime, but lacked that stale quality it should have possessed had it truly been undisturbed lately. 

Jane crept carefully towards the prominent table. The floor was hard concrete, and broadcasted her every step. An impromptu tap-dance would probably go down well, had she an audience and experience. The notes and memos seemed better worth her time than the chalkboard for now, so Jane picked up the uppermost layer of papyrus detritus and leafed through them.

Hey DD, would it kill ya to smoke a little less when working with CD? I don’t care what the regs say about what is and isn't a stable explosive, if I fine out one or both of you went up in a fireshroom 'cuz of your nic' 'diction, guess who'z seeing a shrink about getting your lazy ass to deal with all this sodding paperwork.  
\- Spades Slick

No need to get in all bezoomy, you britva bratchny. Cancer is a loyal drencrom and don't filly about. Also, it would be a medium you'd want to prod, not a shrink. That's a different kind of strack altogether.   
\- Diamonds Droog

Swivel on your own cue, you stuck up pompous nancy boy.  
\- Spades Slick

As per instructions, the courier working the night of August fifth will never walk again. That'll show those uppity pizza folk not to deliver the crew a cold one.  
\- Embrog Fellow

Don't you be getting ahead of y'self newbie, there’s crew pride and there's personal pride. A delivery brat getting their knees wacked for dropping us a cold one is a blatant example of the latter. You ain't done some righteous service to spiritually moving soulful devotion, you delivered a petty grudge. Personal does not equal important, y' got that brat?"  
\- Hearts Boxcars.

Hey Hearts, I hate to be as blunt and indirect as to use a memo on so fine a matter but you've been a real stranger lately so haven’t left me much choice. I've been stalking round the Mayo, real innocuous, don't you worry, and anyhow I think the shortstack lass he keeps around has taken a shining to me. This ain't no tooth-in-throat deal and I'd appreciate some advice.  
\- Spades Slick

Spades, y' dense sack of ingots, the nuances of woocraft ain't such that I can give due respect over a piece of shit system as this. Why the fuck is everyone so busy lately and what the hell's wrong with a digi' comm?  
-Hearts Boxcars

Flowers! Everyone loves flowers. Tradition, right?  
-Clubs Deuce

Can it, Deuce.  
\- Spades Slick

Next time you get pizza with anchovies at least one of you is getting shown the stabs.  
\- Spades Slick

 

Jus' a heads up, Droog, your car got towed again.  
\- Hearts Boxcars

task c0mpleted  
\- aradia megid0

Atta girl.  
-Diamonds Droog

The kindly mister Crocker requested fresh shaving cream, and additional tobacco. It's fine I gave it to him, right?  
\- Clubs Deuce

Our dorogoy plenny is to receive anything he gets in his gulliver to fancy, short of escape or a comm line. We may not be 'excellent', but let it not be said we are unsammy hosts. No issue here.  
\- Diamonds Droog

I'm still skeevy on this mayo job. Seem's whacking the guy's more touble than it’s worth.  
\- Hearts Boxcars

The gray lighter had her warble and that's how we'll dance. His krovvy will bring the eye of good lewdies on the Crew. Betty will do us right, you'll see.  
\- Diamonds Droog

Oh, it's 'Betty' now? Just what have you and the old crone been up to?  
\- Hearts Boxcars

 

Jane EXPUNGE INFORMATION the papers to her sylladex. She staggered back from the table, her hand on her forehead. If she was STAY ASLEEP right, it meant the Baroness OBEY the Midnight Crew. She backed into something hard. Turning around revealed it was the chalkboard. Her artificial eye was bugging out, leaving her to peer at it through her bleary organic eye. It was mostly incoherent rambling, and a few incompetent scribbles of what looked vaguely like a short carapacian in a dress, but with a bit of painful squinting, she managed to make out what seemed to be a crude layout of Medality's town hall, including points marked for entry, retreat, and the Mayor's allocated table. No, there STAY ASLEEP -thing else. 'Mister Crocker', there should only be OBEY and that was her Father. The bursting feeling in her head heralded another migraine. Why now of all times? Bits of knowledge, discrete packets of information, clues? They bounced around her head, trying to interact, but the numbing pressure within her skull halted them from interacting.  
STAY ASLEEP  
There wasSTAY ASLEEP something STAY ASLEEP needed to STAY ASLEEP what? There was STAY ASLEEP a noise? Like a crash? Was that important? Another noise, much the same. Dust fell from a hole. What hole? Was there always a hole? From the hole descended 

A figure.

A person.

A woman.

Ovine horns.

A troll.

Metal skin.

A robot.

A black suit. 

Levitating off the ground, suspended by imperceptible energies.

The Telekinetic Trollbot.

"A...radia?"

Jane struggled to raise her head to the unexpected returnee, but could only lift her eyes for a few seconds before needing to drop them back to the less cranially antagonising floor.

i t0ld y0u t0 keep away

The trollbot slowly raised her arm level with Jane's head.

it w0uld have been acceptable had you lived but this is 0kay t00

On some half-baked reflex Jane launched her backup hat from her sylladex and dived to the side. Telekinetics immediately seized the headpiece, and brutally crushed it to the size of a walnut. Aradia's face remained still and expressionless. She flicked her wrist and launched a mold-rotten barrel so fast Jane could barrel raise her mechanical arm in time to block it. The force of the blow launched her up and slammed Jane into the wall. A shower of crumbling brick and dust fell over her head. Through the harsh ache in her head, Jane noticed the beam of light falling right next to her that placed her just underneath the cellar window. She grabbed her main hat from where it had fallen beside her and desperately scrambled up the crates to the exit.

where are y0u g0ing

Just as she got halfway out the window, psychic force seized Jane by the ankle and dragged her back in. She grabbed hold of the window sill with her prosthetic arm and locked it down. The reinforced polymers groaned in protest under the strain, and gave out an ominous click-click with every little fracture that spread from her fingertips. Aradia adjusted her telekinetic grip and yanked her right back. Jane went flying back through the air, half the window taken with her. Her head was a red haze and her organic eye was blinded for all the motes of dust and plastic clinging to it.  
STAY ASLEEP  
THE MAID MUST LIVE  
OBEY  
She hurled the broken window at Aradia. It shattered into thousands of shards an inch from the trollbot's face, but the effort to deflect it broke her concentration just long enough for Jane to be set loose. A split second before slamming into the far wall Jane twisted in mid-air and struck it with her red-plated fist as hard as she could. There was a terrible crack on impact, and the energy of the blow knocked Jane to the ground at an only unpleasant level of force. Bricks and mortar fell down around her. She had punched right through the wall, leaving a hole to the crawlspace beneath the rest of the building. She grabbed a brick in each hand and hurled them one after the other at Aradia as slipped through the hole. Both were reduced to powder, and the trollbot lazily drifted after her.

did y0u kn0w

As soon as she was in the crawlspace, Jane turned around and slammed her fist against the underside of the floor. Once, twice, and on the third time it gave. 

it feels g00d t0 break things

Light shone down through the hole, but only for a second. The next moment it was blotted out by the sight of faceless red, a jagged red, head with a painted white fork on its brow, a Crockerdrone. The right hands of the Baroness. It pushed one giant outstretched palm through the floor like it was the surface of a stream and clutched Jane around the midsection. It tore her out like a caught fish, dirt and rubble sluicing off her in rivulets. There were four drones in total occupying the run down building, including the one that currently held her.

is that why i stay with the crew

The black-suited trollbot drifted up through the blown open cellar door she had entered from. The Crockerdrones paid her no heed. Instead they turned to Jane in unison, and bellowed their edict through crude speakers.  
OBEY  
FOR THE CRIME OF ESPIONAGE AND TREASON AGAINST THE BARONY  
STAY ASLEEP  
they tell me t0 break things s0 i d0  
DON'T QUESTION  
YOU HAVE BEEN SENTENCED TO IMMEDIATE CULLING  
CEASE REPRODUCTION  
s0 i guess im m0re 0kay with h0w things are than i think  
CENSOR INFORMATION  
Aradia floated up to her, coolly regarding Jane's agonized expression as the Crockerdrone's grip slowly tightened. It was hard to breath, and she was pretty sure at least one of her ribs had cracked.  
BE PRODUCTIVE  
The readout on her lenscomp was going haywire, the combat protocols unable to find an advisable course of action and the medical feedback glitching out from interference.  
SUBMIT  
Dodge to the. Evade down. Break free with. Heart rate rising. Remove enemy. Lung capacity reduced by. gurl. Damage to kidneys up. you there, gurl. Percent. Advise. you gonna by mah heiress, gurl? less see ya get outta this jam. Damage to rib r7. Rib l4. Vertebrae C7. Th1.  
NO THOUGHT  
Jane took in a gasping breath, and opened her mouth. It was dangerous and she hated resorting to it, but being her Poppop's granddaughter still bestowed some perks.  
CONFORM  
Crocker override. Command c-code aon-eins-ett-uno-  
THIS IS YOUR GOD  
oh hell naw gurl. where'd you get that number? not taking the easy way out on this one

The drone briefly let go, allowing Jane to drop barely of a quarter of a meter before it locked its hand around her head and mouth, and slammed her into the ground. Her brain rattled in her skull, and she struggled not to black out. She couldn't see for the colossal hand over her head, couldn't breathe, couldn't cry out, couldn't bite, but she could hear. She could hear the mechanical components inside the drone interlocking and clicking and whirring and grinding. 

i w0nder h0w it will feel when y0u break

Through thrice-hazy recollection of once-glanced schematics, Jane tried to guess the right location. There? There? Close enough. She sent the cut-off command to the inhibitors on her prosthetic arm; the one's needed because she was still just meat and bone and not a good place to put a powerful robot arm. She clenched her fist, clenched her teeth, drew her arm back and punched with as much force as she could command. The metal limb flew around in a hook, and punched right through the armored plating of the drones arm. Fire shot up and down her nerves, but she only flinched for a second. She dug her hand in deeper to the mechanisms, yanked out tufts of wires as she burrowed, and seized the main shaft. With a neural command she locked her arm into maximum pressure, braced herself, and pulled. Her arm trembled violently at the strain, whirring and grinding noisily in protest. The drone started to move, having detected something was wrong, but too late. Jane's arm flew free from the drone's mechanical components, snapped off shaft in hand, badly bent where her fingers dug into it. The Crockerdrone staggered back, its right arm now hanging uselessly by its side. Jane gasped desperately for air, still on the ground, while the other drones advanced on her. She unlocked the grip on her arm, and the shaft fell uselessly to the floor. Her breathing haggard and strained, Jane got to her feet and drew her trident. She tried to ignore the way her prosthetic arm was twitching sporadically, or the way her entire right side felt wet and sticky. She thought about trying the override code again, but something worse might STAY ASLEEP happen a second time.  
THE MAID MUST LIVE  
She looked around the abandoned bar. The entire front had been torn open by the drones, which stood between her escape. Aradia floated by the cellar door, arms crossed and wholly unmoving. All the windows were boarded up, and she was out of barbasol bombs. A high pitched whistling wailed in the distance, heralding her end. No, wait, that wasn't right. It was growing louder, and sounded almost like-

The roof of the abandoned bar erupted in a fireball of splinters and rubble. Jane tried to throw both her arms up to protect her but only her organic one responded. Bright daylight enveloped the whole room, and the drones quickly regrouped to assess the new thread. Floating high above the dead bar stood a robot, tall and lanky, clad in a black cloak and red cap, with long spidery limbs and a compact missile battery extending from either side of its torso. Something else was up there also, a red and gray streak zipping through the sky.

This is world domination calling major pain in my ass, come in major ass, do you copy?

Dirk?

The streak flew past through the middle of the drones. Chests were slashed open and limbs went flying off. Not slowed down in the slightest, it spun around and came to a halt right in front of Jane. It was a Brobot, holding Dirk's katana and riding atop a rocket board. It put one hand on its lenses and lowered its head like it was tipping them. 

You look like shit scraped right off the horses ass.

and you're a sight for tired eyes.

Jane coughed, and smiled weakly.

Hop on.

She awkwardly clambered atop the rocket board behind the brobot.

i w0nt let y0u get away

Aradia flew right up to them, fist raised and snarling. The brobot slashed his katana right across her knuckles and kicked her back, then took off.

Sawtooth, time to ollie outie

The other robot threw its cloak back around it and rocketed after them.

I got two more squads of drones making a beeline for this location. Gotta go fast. You holding out alright?

Jane's arm was wrapped tightly around the brobot's midsection, her prosthesis still not responding. 

I should be fine. Well, maybe.

She struggled to stay upright atop the high moving board.

Maybe nothing. Come on, I got you.

Four extra limbs extended from the brobot's left shoulder, and wrapped around Jane. 

Dirk...

If the words 'seen' 'animes' or 'going' pass from your lips I swear I will use the entire ocean to give you a swirly.

I was just going to say thanks.

She closed her eyes and leaned back into the secure harness of arms.

Oh. Well, you're welcome.

 

The brobot kept just below the city's skyline, taking a winding, seemingly erratic path do his destination. Right before crashing into the face of a skyscraper he banked a hard right, and set down upon the top of a small tower nestled between buildings. It was only the width of a single apartment, and most of the structure was scaffolding, making it seem incomplete or else just a radiotower. Atop the structure was an air conditioner, a large satellite dish, a door leading downstairs and nothing else.

So this is your fabled hat cave?

Jane looked around the sparse rooftop and chuckled.

Yup. A cave hundreds of meters above ground. No one suspects a thing. Let's get you inside so I can have a proper look at you.

The Brobot helped her off the board, which was picked up by Sawtooth as he landed, and took her inside. A long, winding flight of stairs stretched out before them.

Do you need me to carry you?

I'm just a tad sore from a rough tumble. I'm not completely helpless.

She stepped forward, and made to place her arm on the guard rail to steady her. The red limb twitched, but remained by her side. Surprised by the lack of support. she fell shoulder first into the rail, struggled to find her footing, and tipped backwards down the stairs. Quick as rain, the brobot had already caught her, and easily set her down on the stair below it.

Sorry, I guess my arm's a bit buggy. Just wear and tear, a little maintenance will fix it.

Jane smiled weakly, moved to the other side of the stairs, used her organic arm to steady herself instead, and made her way down.

The door at the bottom of the stairwell was already opened. Dirk stood there, watching her descent. Not a brobot, not another digital or mechanical effigy, simple flesh and blood and dumb pointy shades. He looked pale as the dead, with deep lines in his face and a certain twitchiness to his movements. All he wore was slacks, shades, machine grease and a dark wifebeater. 

Dirk, I haven’t seen you in person for years.

Sure you have, just not in the flesh.

He walked over and wrapped her arm around his shoulder.

and like I keep saying, flesh is highly overrated. Now let's get you looked over.

 

Inside his den looked more like the hanger of a battleship than any sort of living quarters. Tools, computers, and bits of robot made up most of the topography. He led her to a table, it was covered in junk but as they moved towards it the parts, tools, and scrap seemed to vanish. The faint shifting of pressure told Jane it was just Dirk showing off with his preternatural speed. He laid her down on the table and unbuttoned her coat.

Oh fuck. Jesus Christ, Sassacre, you're a mess.

Her entire right side was drenched in blood. Dirk fetched a small blade and swiftly cut away her shirt.

Hey.

She voiced her protest, feeble though it was.

You shouldn't even have been moving. What the fuck did you even do?

The flesh where the housing for her arm was embedded was covered in tears and fissures. Blood flowed freely around the red metal, pooling on the table below her. The entire inside of her coat was sticky with it, having stopped the wound from becoming apparent sooner. 

Jane, fuck. You could have ripped this whole thing right out with whatever the hell you pulled.

I got jumped by a psychic robot and five drones. Desperate times and all.

That gave Dirk pause.

Wait, a psychic robot? That shouldn't be possible.

Apparently it's more like a robot haunted by the ghost of a psychic troll, or something.

Weird. Wait, nevermind, I'm getting distracted. Your arm's not sitting right. I need to reset it, clean your wounds, and stitch you up. I'm sorry but this is going to hurt quite a bit. I can't give you more than a mild anesthetic.

Oh goody me.

A brobot approached, and handed Dirk a syringe filled with fluid. He straightened Jane's organic arm out, placed the needle against the inside of her arm and pushed.

That didn't hurt so badly.

No, that was the anesthetic. Next I need to get that fascist arm of yours back in its housing proper.

Hey-

You were just about to be executed with extreme prejudice for mere trespassing, and by a force that could take out an entire mob. You really going to defend Crocker now?

Jane tipped her head back and slumped, staring straight up into the lamp on the ceiling.

There's something else. That robot was a member of the Midnight Crew. The Drones ignored her. I also found some fairly incriminating communications while I was snooping. The Midnight Crew is sanctioned by the barony.

Dirk nodded shrewdly.

I had a feeling as much. Hold still, I'm going to do your arm now. On the count of three.

He shoved her prosthetic limb as hard as he could. There was a loud snap as it locked back into place. Burning acid flooded Jane's synapses and she blacked out.

When she came to, Jane's right side was numb and burning. Dirk was carefully going over her skin with a needle and surgical thread. She sighed.

So I guess I'm an outlaw now.

It was inevitable. Family ties back to the husband of the original Baroness. Choosing to go snoop around for a living. You were going to find some dirty secret of this wretched city-state sooner or later.

That's not terribly comforting.

So what are you going to do now? Don't shrug; I'm not done jabbing this needle through you.

Well, I suppose I finish my job and show my client the proof.

The needle passed through again and she winced.

Proof? You mean there will be an attack on the Mayor?

The Crew are planning one, order from Betty herself it seems. Ouch.

Sorry. I've never actually stitched up anyone that's not myself.

He cut through the string, rethreaded it, and set to work on the next tear.

Actually, I should probably make sure my account hasn't been frozen and seized yet. Otherwise the payment I get from the Monitor will be all I have left.

I'll see what I can do, but no promises.

Dirk clicked his fingers, and pointed one of the brobots to an unoccupied computer console.

So you do your job, get paid, then what?

Then what? There was something else...what was it? Oh. Yes.

Jane took a deep breath. 

They have him. My father. He's still alive and either the MC or Betty has him.

What? Why?

I don't know, but they called him Mr Crocker, which we haven’t gone by since the attempt that cost me my arm and eye.

You know, all things considered that might have been Betty herself.

What on Earth for?

Put you in your place? I don't know. With all the money you inherited you could have become a formidable force if you chose to.

He snipped off the last string, placed the needle in a basin, and stood up.

Right, that's the last one. I realize things are bad right now, but try not to get carried away and reopen your wounds.

Jane sat up, wincing.

You should stay here the night and rest up, if nothing else.

Yes, I suppose that would be for the best.

So if they have your dad, does that mean you're going to lock horns with the ol' Batterwitch herself?

Jane sighed, and rubbed her temple.

I suppose so. Really this is all still very overwhelming.

Come here, there's something I want to show you.

Dirk helped her to her feet. She took a trembling step forward, hissed in pain, and took out the box of blue gushers from her sylladex.

It's fine to take these, right? Or will they interact poorly with that anaesthetic you gave me earlier?

Huh? Oh, they should be fine as far as I know. I've yet to find any questionable substances in any of the gusher flavors. Hang on, you should still put as little strain on you as possible. Hmm...

Dirk drifted from junk pile to junk pile around his den, tossing aside robotic limbs and odd components.

I don't have a walking stick per say, but this umbrella should do the same job.

He held it out to her. He reached for it with her red prosthetic limb.

Nope. Other hand.

With a roll of her eyes, Jane took the rainshielder in her organic hand. It was old and sturdy, and felt good under her fingers. Solid, and resilient, it was nothing like the telescoping disposable kind most folks carried. He gave it a few experimental taps against the floor. Jane frowned; the clack clack clack sound it made reminded her just a bit too much of a certain blind troll's walking cane. It left her goose fleshed and on edge, itching. She bit the urge down and followed Dirk's lead through the lab. 

 

Where did you come from?

He spoke up as he fished out a keycard from his pants pocket.

Huh? You mean where I grew up?

No, before that. What was your origin point? What birthed you?

He swiped the keycard over a scanner and opened up a deeper part of his home. 

An ectolab, just like everyone else in Medality younger than the war.

This deeper part was different to the rest of Dirk's place. While the rest had a schizophrenic air, of moving from half-finished job to half-finished job, this had a much stronger sense of purpose. Everything was built around a central computer station. There were no brobots standing idle, every last once was engaged in some task or another.

Yes, an ectolab, a finely tuned blend of genetics. Say, have you needed glasses since you were born? No, forget it. Now where did that genetic material come from?

Well, Poppop, John Crocker, son of Colonel Sassacre and Betty Crocker. At least, according to the paperwork. If it mentioned who the other contributor was, I don't recall.

Wouldn't do you much good, she changed her name if my sources are correct. Or they might be more wrong than I've even begun to suspect. No matter. So then your Dad, the man who raised you, was someone John had adopted. It's funny the unwritten taboo about a kid being raised by their progenitors. Very troll like, don't you think?

Dirk strode over to the main console in the center of the room, surrounded by a system of screens and overlooking a blocked out enclosure.

I've not thought about it. It hardly seems important now, does it?

Maybe. Maybe not. You know what John did, right?

He was a comedian. Of course, that's hardly the answer you want. He fought in the old war, on the side of Prospit. Called the Heir of Breath. Is this really the time for a history lesson?

History is always relevant. I had my own old man in the war. The Knight of Time was his epithet.

Dirk fired his fingers across the console, and the enclosure opened to reveal an array of devices around a pedestal. Atop the pedestal was a small, worn disc. He kept typing, and some of the devices began to assume a formation around it.

This pendant belonged to him. I found it amongst a cache of his stuff in the ruins of Derse. Lots of interesting stuff down there. As for this little mystery, it seems to be data storage. The encryption on this thing would make Atlantean Braille seem like it was written in the vernacular. The security on this thing is very densely layered.

Like a cake?

Dirk's hand froze for a moment above the keys, the closest to a gesture he would afford himself while working, then resumed typing. 

Yes Jane. Like a cake. I have no idea how many layers it has, but I've gotten through some of them. If I do this-

Four lasers shot down onto the disc's surface, and began rotating in a looping pattern. After a few circulations, the disc lit up a bright orange. Within the light emerged a distinct shape, an egg.

We get this thing. Don't know why this of all things, we just do. Now if I then do this-

He typed something else, and the lasers assumed a new formation. Like last time they began rotating in a looping fashion, but in a distinctly different manner. When their path completed, the egg of light shifted. It rocked and rattled, and burst into a great shining bird, screeching so loud it could be heard even through the enclosure, and with a sword embedded right through its stomach. Dirk fired off a few more keystrokes, and the light vanished. The pendant was left on the pedestal completely the same as how it was before. 

So I can make it show an egg, and I can crack the egg to make it show a bird, but I can't seem to figure out the next step. The encryption key for each layer seems to be a spirograph, but that's not the easiest thing to just brute force.

Dirk sighed, and pushed away from the console.

What do you think is in there?

From what analysis I've been willing to risk that won't damage it, I'm pretty sure it holds some sort of AI construct. Like AR, except, well, and I hate to say this but, more magical.

A magic computer?

Shut up, shut up, shut up.

Dirk buried his head in his hands. Jane just chuckled to herself at the sight.

I hate magic. It makes no sense. I can't work with it. It's driving me insane. I convinced Jake to let me take a look at his fucking suit once, it wouldn't turn on for a brobot and when I gave up and tried it myself It physically pried itself open with its own arms and threw me out. How does it work? How does it draw power? What are its capacities? What are its components? I don't understand and it pisses me off.

She gave him a half-hearted pat on the back.

There, there, the bad magic can't bother you, but why are you so determined to see what's inside the pendant?

He straightened up, and went back to the computer.

I have a theory. It's not important right now though. What is important is that, towards the end of the war, those still alive and fighting realized that the Red Empress had been manipulating the war between Prospit and Derse from behind the scenes. Now, she was the oldest, baddest troll who ever walked, and they say she was unkillable. For the final showdown, a lot of weapons were forged to try and take her down. The whole world had gone to shit and she was the only thing stopping people from just throwing in the towel and going home en masse. I think this construct can tell me where some of these weapons are, and I plan to use them against Crocker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *disregards canon in favor of nadsat speaking droog.*


	9. A Matter of the Individual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the other side of the law, a hand beckons.

The sound of muted applause and vaguely patriotic music roused Jane from her sleep. She sat up with a yawn, grabbed the umbrella from beside the hammock she'd slept in, and clambered out. Her shirt was ruined, and Dirk had insisted he wash the blood out from her coat, so she was left stomping around his tower in just boots, pants, and a sports bra. She might have found it indignant if only she would actually catch him looking at her in that way. She walked through the lab, a trio of clacks echoing after each step of her two feet and umbrella tip. Sure enough, Dirk was seated in front of his main console, a grinning, pale-faced puppet hanging from one of the screens like some deranged fluffy dice; Lil Cal, with his orange suit and blue shirt and too-blue eyes. He always did give Jane the creeps.

Don't you ever sleep?

Jane walked over behind him, and leaned on his chair.

I only need four hours sleep a day to keep functioning, and I get that done in a bunch of naps around the clock when the brobots can take of whatever I'm working on.

You'll push yourself too hard and just keel over with an exploded heart one day, Dirk.

That has never happened to anyone that wasn't actually caused by psychic exertion. If I was psychic, things would be different around here.

Yes, you would have already conquered five eighths of the Earth's surface. Do you have any food around here?

Standing up, she wandered around the equipment looking for a coffee machine or a sandwich press.

I assure you I would have at least seven eighths down by now. There's a minifridge in the bottom of that broken segment of a robot assembly line.

The object in question was easy to find, a half build robot leg still dangling off one construction arm. Jane swung open the door and frowned. The fridge was filled with nothing but air sealed sacks of colorful goop, and various brands of orange soda."

Don't take this too unkindly Dirk, but if you ever did rule the world, yours would be the kind of administration about which they would say 'at least the trains run on time.'

She took out one sack and a bottle of soda, shut the door with her foot, and eyed her acquisitions warily. 

It's not exactly fine cuisine but it's got everything a body needs. Sure, it tastes like soggy vegetables, but there's a stove around there somewhere and frying the stuff goes surprisingly well.

He pointed in the vague direction of a small chemical lab. There, Jane found a frying pan sat atop a tripod with a Bunsen burner beneath it, and a rack of test tubes marked as 'olive oil', 'turmeric', 'saffron', 'paprika', 'fucked if I know' and other ingredients. With a resigned sigh, Jane lit up the Bunsen burner, uncorked the olive oil and poured a dash of it into the pan.

So what are you watching there?

The Mayor's visit's in just a few days. Ol' Betty is giving a speech about it and other such crap that no one even cares about but they pretend to because they think everyone else does.

Jane carried the sizzling pan over and peered at the screen. Sure enough, there was Betty Crocker, standing in her office at Crockercorp Tower. Her short black hair was swept back and wavy, her narrow lips were painted in full red, and her gaunt, pallid skin stretched almost painfully over her high cheek bones and prominent chin. She held herself proud, regally almost, and parted her lips in a thin smile.

My beloved cosmopolites, it is I, your darling Betty.

Her voiced seemed saccharine enough, but there was an unnerving edge to it. Every word, every syllable; she pronounced with a spectral deepness. She commanded attention, and with every parted lips and flash of teeth one could feel themselves falling forever in a sea of eternity. There was an unfathomable gap of wisdom between the speaker and the listener, one that could never be bridged. A shudder ran down Jane's spine. She went back to the burner and resumed cooking her nutritional gruel.

I am speaking to you today to reassure my loyal subjects of our future. Not just your future, or my future, or the future of Medality, but the future that we all share and walk down together. There are radicals among you, those who would see you cowed by terror and turn on one another in panic. To them I say 'this city stands together, and we are strong'. Report any suspected radicals to your local authorities.

Oh sure, she says THEY want people to go at one another’s' throats, then turns around and tells people to snitch at the slightest hunch.

The broadcast ignored his complaints.

In just a few days, the illustrious Mayor of our honored neighbors, The Golden Cairn, will visit us, a gesture of good will and cooperation between sister cities. With increased trade between our two territories, we shall both enter a cornucopic age of progress and luxury. We shall flourish, we shall prosper, we shall rise up to the heavens and cast out whatever dark gods we find there. We shall descend to the very heart of creation, and overthrow what false demons lurk there. We shall stretch to the horizons of the galaxy, and we shall want for nothing.

Dirk suddenly leaned forward on his chair, staring intently at the screen with a hint of a grin plucking at the corners of his mouth.

Now that's interesting. Was that a challenge? Who are the gods and who are the demons you might be referring to?

He spun around to another monitor and threw himself into typing.

Yet even the greatest journey needs small steps before it can truly begin to leap. The initial stages of the Mars Colonization Project have been completed. The preliminary Mars Base is under construction at this very moment, and soon it will be manned and fully functional. Of the three races that live in kinship on this planet, two of you came from the stars. Now, thanks to the efforts of the hardworking people at Crockercorp, the stellar seas stand open before us. United we-

The screen flicked off. 

Really can't stand listening to that windbag prattle on. I'll read the transcripts for the rest of it later.

Dirk clicked his tongue three times and got back to work.

 

Far across the city, atop the highest building, Betty Crocker wrapped up her speech.

-o my loyal citizens I say, trust in Betty.

She smiled at the camera, a well-practiced expression that came no more easily than it ever had.

and cut. Now would you kindly get that camera out of here, Betty needs some time out.

She waved her bony, slender hand at the prospitan behind the camera. He nodded, hefted the camera over his shoulder stand and all, and with a bow departed the room. Once he was gone, Betty et out a deep sigh, stuck her feet up on her desk, and pushed a red button.

Mah bois, to me.

Her voice dropped an octave when she snapped through the intercom. While she waited for her order to be obeyed, she took out a clamshell compact and began rubbing the makeup off her face. A minute later four dark-shelled Dersites filed in, each wearing an immaculate black suit and hat. By the time they arrived, her face was clean of cosmetics and gray as stainless steel. The tall, thin one came over to her desk and held out a pack of cigarettes. That close he could see the thin, pale scars on each of her cheeks, and the slight lumps of orange atop her crown that were hidden amongst her hair.

Cancer for you, M'dama?

Cheers Droog. Get some piss up here while you're at it, I'm urchin for some chillax, know what I'm saying. Hey Deuce, go beat one a them stiffs into fishing up a few bottles a port.

She snapped up a cigarette from the box, stuck it in her mouth and held it still while Droog lit it, then one of his own. The shortest of the quattro tipped his hat, and then darted back out to door to harass some of the staff.

A'right your Condescension, make it quick. I got a bitch of paperwork piling up and not enough time to go 'splaining to you every little detail of our operation.

Yo, Jack, show me a little moray respect. I AM the one running this pond.

Yeah, yeah, shove it up your fish-hole. We've known each other since the war and we've both had our losses.

The speaker, a short Dersite in an eyepatch and a bogartian fedora, walked up to the office desk and slammed both his hands down. The ring finger on his right hand was missing, cut off long ago, and his left arm was robotic from the shoulder down. Droog took a deep breath of his cigarette and blew a diamond of smoke into the air.

Cool your bezoomy, Slick. You're no good all riled up.

Yeah, yeah, whatever Droog.

Slick scowled, but nonetheless took his hands off the table. Clubs Deuce came running back in, holding two bottles in each hand and one more under each arm.

I got it! I got the booze!

Well then, don't mind if I do.

The largest of the four, in a broad rimmed gaucho hat, picked up the shortest member in one thick hand, and plucked a bottle from under Deuce's arm then put him down. The one calling herself Betty Crocker turned her gaze form Slick to Deuce and back again. Sometimes she swore he only kept the tiny man around to make himself look taller by comparison. Standing as he was, his head barely came above her desk.

Yo, juice a beach up.

Deuce beamed, and started dancing a little jig. He tossed one bottle into the air, then another, and soon he was juggling the four remaining bottles as he danced around the room. He tossed one at Crocker, who snatched it out of the eair, and another behind him at Droog, who simply held out his hand and let it fall into his palm. He tossed another at Slick, who managed to stab it in mid air right through the cork, and flipped the last one straight up end over end before catching it himself.

I believe this calls for a toast.

Droog popped the corked on his bottle and took another drag on his cigarette.

Yeah, yeah, a toast. For what?

Deuce jigged sideways across the room as he struggled to pull out the cork.

For all my homies not being clamplete fuckups and everyfin gon' be done soon. How's 'at for a toast?

Bah, works for me.

Slick raised his bottle to the air, and the others followed suit.

To not fucking up completely

Cheers

The gathered five gulped down their drinks, then got down to business.

 

 

Jane was looking over the memos she'd taken from the Midnight Crew's hideout when the call came.

\-- ???? [PM] began bothering gutsyGumsoe [GG] \--

PM: Sleuth.  
PM: What have you uncovered so far?  
GG: Ah, there you are.  
GG: I'm not sure how much I can safely disclose.  
GG: My intelligence says these channels are compromised.  
GG: But your hunch was correct.  
GG: How should I put it?  
GG: There is a red fork in the black suit's pocket,   
GG: and I have the dry cleaning bill.  
PM: I see.  
PM: That is most alarming.  
PM: Can you sent to receipt to me?  
GG: Not by wire, it will most likely be pulled off halfway,  
GG: And I'm afraid I don't have the face for cameras I used to, so meeting up might be difficult.  
GG: Oh.  
GG: Something might be arrangeable.   
GG: My friend says he knows where you are.   
GG: You will shortly be approached by a robot in a trenchcoat.  
GG: Install the program it gives you, and that'll allow more secure communication.  
GG: Another robot can deliver the paperwork to you at an agreed upon location later.   
PM: I see.  
PM: I am of my word. You will receive your due payment.  
GG: Give it to the robot. My account might not be the best location right now.  
PM: Very well.

\-- ???? [PM] ceased bothering gutsyGumshoe [GG] \--

 

Jane switched off the chat box in her lenscomp and sighed. She held a plate of scrambled friedgoop. With enough salt, pepper, and tactically chosen condiments, it tasted enough like commercial grade junk food to be palatable. With a bit of experimentation she might one day be able to get it to the level of dodgy restaurant tier, but not much further. 

Speaking of my account, what happened there?

She turned to regard Dirk, who was hunched over his console as usual.

It's been frozen, but otherwise untouched. If I pull a few white collar tricks I might be able to get it reheated long enough to abscond with it, but that would then require a run around the kitchen till they lost sight of it and I could put it some place safe. That might take weeks or even months, depending on how badly they care. You really should have taken more discretion with your savings. Not even a credit chit in your shoe? Really?

Yes, yes, inheritance girl is loose with money. Put it on my tombstone later.

Only a tombstone? I'll dedicate a whole mausoleum to all the ways your skeptic naiveté made things worse for you. It'll be a yellow pages of character flaws, and an eternal testament of how to underestimate a dodgy government just because of a few flimsy legal ties.

Okay, okay, I get it. I fucked up a lot.

With an idle twist of her fork, she stirred her scrambled gruel.

Sorry. That was a bit harsh.

No, you're right. Brand loyalty is a terrible thing.

Look, nevermind that. Have you ever heard of the Crumplehat Society?

 

Dirk spun around on his chair and pointed to a window on one of the screens. It showed a blinking image of a cartoon tophat, folded in on itself like an accordion. Jane swallowed a mouthful of her fried gruel and chewed on her fork.

I've heard of them. Dad mentioned them once or twice. Something like an old boys club that Poppop was a member of.

Oh really? So just how did some 'old boys club' get a line right to me? The number of people who even know I exist should be exceeded at all times by the number of fingers I still possess. No offence to your one handedness.

I still have two hands. One just happens to be not as home grown as the other. Besides what happened to 'flesh is overrated?

Jane crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

No, never mind that. How did these hatters track me down?

Well what do they want?

Oh sure, just open the attached communication that will no doubt make everything explode. great plan.

He threw his arms up in the air, and then dramatically brought them down on his forehead.

You think they might be in league with Crockercorp?

Who knows, maybe? I don't like it either way.

For what it's worth, I think you should see what they have to say. Dad never did speak ill of them.

Fine, I'll lift some of the restrictions and see what they're yapping about. For you.

And?

Oh. Now that's unexpected.

What?

They want to talk. To both of us. They also say they know how to unlock the Knight of Time's legacy.

What do you think?

I think they have a powerful psychic and this is an obvious trap.

Jane scraped the last of her fried gruel into her mouth and placed the plate on a bench,

Okay, but what are you going to do?

They mentioned you as well. They want to meet with us both and talk about, well, they didn't specify.

I think we should see what they have to say.

Dirk deflated in his chair.

Yeah, well we don't have much else to work with right now. If they know the decryption for the pendant they have me by the short hairs. If they are as old as the war survivors as you say, it wouldn't be too out there they know a few secrets. I'll send a brobot with you.

How considerate of you.

Jane huffed, and crossed her arms over her chest.

Hey, I am very good at multitasking. The best you ever did saw this or any side of the globe.

Did see.

Don't get pedantic with me. The point is you'll be fine, and I'll be slightly finer because you still won't just commission a personal army of doppelgangers to do your dirty work.

Not going to happen, Dirk. So what exactly are they asking?

Her handed stirred the air as she spoke, as though she was trying to twist the answers around her hand like noodles on a fork.

They want the two of us to show up at some place in the Oneida district, and to bring the pendant.

Fancy part of town. You think they’ll just jump us and take the trinket?

See? You can be suspicious in the right way when you want to. Repeat after me, Sassacre- skeptic that something is as safe as they say, good. Skeptic that something is as dangerous as they sad, very very bad.

She tried to punch him in the shoulder, but he just caught her fist and laughed.

So we'll go?

Dirk punched something into the console, and the enclosure in the center of the room slowly opened up.

It's a risk, but maybe they can help us, and quite frankly it's not like I have any better ideas right now. Shall I compare the situation to a river of defecation? It's got worse color and is thrice as fragrant- there's a storm brewing, and the closest to a paddle we have is an eggbeater.

Once the pendant's pedestal was completely exposed, a brobot walked over and captchalogued the small, priceless artefact. Another brobot walked over to Jane, her coat and a replacement shirt draped over its arm like a butler with a towel.

Oh, thank you uh,

She faltered, unsure if she should be thanking the robot or Dirk himself. The organic heart of the Strider conglomerate was already deep in focus at his workstation. The brobot shrugged.

Help yourself to some of the loose junk I got lying around if you like. I think I got some smoke pellets in a box somewhere. You like smoke pellets, right? Of course you do.

That he already spoke with that synth-affected voice through the brobot in front of her when his physical body was right there behind it was unnerving to say the least. 

Oh yeah, I got a few of these things too. You said you used up all the barbasol bombs you had on you.

Another brobot spoke up from behind her. Jane spun around to face it. The simulacrum was holding three small plastic boxes, each marked with a red and blue hat, and an arrow pointing towards one face.

I was messing around with the alchemiter with Captor the other week and ended up making those. I was aiming for exploding shuriken, and along the line got these sort of shuriken claymore things.

The brobot with her clothes spoke as it helped her put on her jacket.

Sollux was here?

No, we were just talking online. I don't even know how he pulls off the things he does half of what he does with alchemy and sylladex technology. Yet. Regardless, it's not my style, but you can tackle them if you want.

This time the voice came from the brobot walking over from the now sealed off enclosure. Turning to face each faceless speaker was fast giving her a headache.

I guess you'd call it a D♊ Odachi mine? No matter. You want them?

The one holding the mines chimed in, and thrust them towards her. Jane gritted her teeth.

Can you kindly STOP jumping around which robot does the talking!

Sorry

Sorry

Sorry

Sorry

Sorry

All the brobots in the room spoke at once. Jane smacked one of them in the face with the back of her fist and took the mines.

Heh, couldn't resist. I'll stop now.

The brobot with the pendant shrugged, and all the other metal replicas departed back to whatever it was that Dirk wanted them to do around the lab.

We'll head off in about an hour. Like I said, help yourself. There's an alchemiter in that side room if you feel like it, but you have to use your own grist.

With a jerk of its thumb, the brobot gestured to one of the doors, then turned and walked off. With nothing better to do, Jane set about scouring around for anything worth taking.

 

The Oneida district was as high brow as its reputation alleged. Even far off buildings stretched above the horizon, and for every sky scraper or shopping complex was a manor or small villa taking up a quarter of a city block. The Carapacians and high-blooded trolls walking the streets popped in and out of public transportalizer booths rather than suffer the fifteen minutes to walk down the road and cross a street to their destination. The night sky was completely obscured for all the awnings, tarpaulin, neon lettering, and occasional low flying tour shuttle. There was nonetheless a modest pedestrian tumult, kept in tow by an unspoken agreement to give a wide berth to these strange others one is forced to share the city with. These were people who paid good money to have nothing to do with anything unsightly or displeasing, and were determined not to let the fact of other people paying good money for the same thing deter them from their perceived exile from unpleasantness. That which wasn't well dressed, well spoken, and utterly beautiful was furiously ignored less it sully the paradise their wealth had afforded them. Jane had chased a couple jobs into Oneida, even had the occasional client from around, after somehow low-key enough to not have their desire to know certain things become widely known. All in all, Jane's experience with the place was place sight was the best place to hide, and the Crockerdrones being deemed unsightly enough to be taken off patrol coupled with the overwhelming attitude of wilful ignorance made it both the best and worst place to play it fast and loose with the law. The brobot and she were common enough looking to be virtually invisible, for better or worse.

So do you know how to get to this place?

Jane fiddled with her lenscomp as she walked. It had been playing up ever since she was attacked by the drones. Did registering a Crockerdrone as a threat set off some inbuilt deterrent device? Dirk had said to just turn it off until he could go through it, but without it her arm was a clumsy, oafish thing and more of a liability than an asset. As such, she just put up with half her vision having the occasional flicker, and a numerical glitch or two splashing across the display.  
STAY A//EEP  
Oh yeah. We turn off just up here, down that backstreet, make a right, then it's the third building on the left.

The brobot marched stiffly in front of Jane, its limbs held rigid either side of each joint.

Why are you walking like that anyway?

Folks pay less attention to a robot that moves how they thing a robot aught. If a puppet doesn't walk like a puppet, they think it's putting on airs. Who does that doll think he is? Nuanced expression is the sacred domain of people. For a fake to tread here is downright blasphemy. Part of the reason why the brobot series talks like it does, too. It's calming, for a robot to be obviously a robot. The brobots are very inoffensive. They have no face, they walk like tin men, they sound like a toaster and light up when they talk. Of course the silly walk is a drag, so I only bother with that when I want to go unnoticed more than normal.

The pair of them turned, and casually made their way down the back street. Jane packed herself a pipe and lit up.

How much of you is even in those robots?

Well not even I can control them all manually. AR could, but when he chose to move out I insisted it was no longer his responsibility. He's free to jack in at any time of course, but it would be unconscionable to completely rely on him when he's finally starting to want more independence.

Jane puffed her pipe in silence as he explained, she didn't want to interrupt.

After AR I swore to never make another true AI again. I'm not ready for that kind of responsibility. The system I got the bro's hooked up to now; well you can liken it to power steering attached to a Chinese box.

Chinese box?

Stimulus goes in, Dirk comes out, but the processor doesn't know what it does. Rather than being an intrinsic copy, this Dirk is based on external observations. Outside of what manual input I send it, a brobot defaults to what it's observed be doing in the past. Most of the speech comes from recorded dialogues I've had with the AR back when he was more me than him.

What did you talk about?

I had him explain things to me. Obviously he couldn't explain anything I didn't already now, but it helped me find holes in my own reasoning.

She blew out a puff of smoke pensively, and then turned to the brobot.

What about this conversation now? Is it Dirk explaining this to me, or just a recording of Dirk explaining these subjects to himself, edited for context?

Does it matter?

I think it does.

Am I repeating to you explanations I've gone over in the past that I've modified to fit the flow of conversation, or am I repeating to you explanations I've gone over in the past that I've modified to fit the flow of conversation?

Don't be coy.

Who's being coy? If two different particles are identical in every way, are they two different particles, or the same particle found in two locations?

Now you're just evading the topic.

Jane scowled at the brobot.

I disagree, but I can see you're not in the mood.

They fell to silence as they made their way down the street. Even the dumpsters and fire escapes were well maintained and presentable. It was just a back street, but still spaceous enough to easily fit a small truck. There were main streets that were narrower in some of the worse off districts.

You never did answer my question.

Do you hear something ringing?

What?

The brobot stuck its arm in front of her, stopping them both. Jane closed her eye and listened. Sure enough, a distinct ringing sounded off somewhere nearby. A few seconds passed, and it went off again.

Do you know what that is?

No, you?

I've heard rumors.

Oh they probably don't do me even a batch of justice.

Someone emerged from the end of the street. He had an odd, forward leaning posture, tall and with a broad torso but sloping shoulders, and a round, thick head upon which sat a striped purple number twelve hat. Green suit, green eyes with bags under them, green face, green hands, green green green and in his hand a strange, purple timer in his hand.  
ST/Y #SLEEP  
Oh fuck.

The green man was joined by another, same suit, same hat, same head, same face, same strange device.

I swear this is not some elaborate premeditated illustration and we are in fact in real danger.

The brobot stepped back and drew its sword. 

Who is this? One of The Felt, right?

Yes, yes, The Felt. That's me.

Another identical figure stepped into view, and another, and four more after that. Jane glanced behind her. Four more were approaching from the other end of the street. That made about a dozen of them in total.

Hello. I am Eggs.

and I am Eggs

and I'm Eggs too

and I'm here for Biscuits.

The green men spoke one after the other.

Uh...Dirk?

Uncertain, Jane captchalogued her pipe and drew her trident.  
@BEY  
That's just their codenames, not actually breakfast. I've heard of this guy. He's a dangerous moron

A ringing sounded, and another Eggs appeared behind the rest. 

That thing he's holding makes or calls in or I don't know what the fuck copies of him. Apparently Biscuits is the name of the guy he was partnered with. You meet any greensuits recently?

I-   
%TAY AL**P   
One. He had an...oven. It didn't do anything that I saw, though, he just tried to beat me to death with it.

Yeah, he had an oven.

That was our whole thing.

I have a timer he has an oven.

Eggs and Biscuits.

We were a fucking pair to be reckoned with.

And you killed him!

You killed him?  
$7@Y /\5L##P  
Jane clutched her head and hissed.

I don't remember now, do I?

Jane, are you okay?

I woke up in my office and everything was fine so I don't know what happened!

Her hand covered the half glasses over her organic eye, and she brought her trident to bear. The growing mob of green suits had begun to arm themselves with pipes and broken bottles from the dumpsters, while others pulled guns from inside their suit jackets.

You don't remember?

You don't remember?

You don't remember?

You don't remember?

You don't remember?

How fucking dare you!

Get down!

The brobot pulled her down as half the Eggs charged and the other half opened fire. A horrible, echo of shouts and cries went up as half of them were gunned down by cross fire.

Like I said, dangerous idiot. The clocks against us. Just get in there and fight.

It picked her back up as it leapt to its feet, then let go and charged.   
PURG(-  
Jane ran to meet the other half of the mob. One took a fork to the chest, and red blood ran down the front of his suit. Another copped a metal fist to the face, and collapsed like a bag of twigs. She switched her weapon's mode, and broke the arm of an Egg aiming his gun, then spun around and broke another's jaw. Every few seconds another time rang out and another duplicate showed up swinging, and the time between rings was growing shorter. A severed limb flew by from the brobot's end of the street and slapped an Eggs in the face before he could bring down his wooden plank on Jane's head. She forked him in the neck, and shattered the nose of another with her prosthetic elbow. Every time an Eggs fell, it vanished in a flash of purple light.  
*BEY  
Despite however many they took down, the crowd of green mobsters gained ground on them. True to form, not a single person had so much as peered down the street or out their window. That would force them to admit that something was happening at all.   
(O]/]SU/\/\\[-  
The ringing intensified. The green suits' numbers swelled to that of a full blown horde, all shouting and shooting and swinging. They were individually inept, but s many couldn't be held off forever. One managed to get Jane in the side with a glass bottle. Another bent a pipe around her metal arm and rattled something loose, making the whole limb go just a bit slower which in turn let one of them leave a slice down her back, shallow through her coat, right before getting his brain juiced by an Eggs trying to shoot her in the back of the head. The brobot removed the gun and his fingers, caught the weapon and emptied it into a pair of Eggs coming at him with knives. Three more jumped on its back, pinning its arms in place.

About damn time.

From the top of an adjacent building fell another brobot. When it hit the ground, the cement cracked, and when it flicked its sword to the side, the green mobsters clinging to its robretheren hit the ground dead.

You're late.

Well I was running here as fast as I could with toast in my mouth, but I realized I had no mouth so had to turn back.

The brobot picked itself up, and kicked an Eggs to the newcomer. The new brobot grabbed him out of the air spun in place and hurled him back into the crowd, bowling a group of Eggs over.

Right, I forgot brobots start smack talking when they get too close to one another. It's a glitch in the dirk experience, since a good chunk of my conversations with AR were just childish bickering. I'm afraid you'll just have to put up with the chatter.

Jane retreated from the Eggs horde between the two brobots and popped one each of a red and blue gusher. Some of the Eggs tried to rush the trio, and got cut down.   
Co#&U^^ME  
Is more backup on its way?  
D-D-D-D-D-D-D()!\| T PANIC  
Yeah, but not fast enough.  
OB --EY  
I suppose then that the time is right for more extreme measures. Cover me.

The two bots nodded and dashed away to stem the coming tide of green idiots. Jane took from her sylladex two of the Odachi mines, one in each hand, and slammed them down into a pair of dead Eggs beside her, facing opposite directions. Once it registered them as set, her sylladex ejected the detonators into her hands. 

Back over here you two, and give me a boost.

The brobots fell back, grabbed her by the waist and shoulders, leaped up amidst a rain of gunfire and grabbed hold on a window ledge two floors up. Jane hit the detonator switches.

The explosion cracked all sound around it, silenced the gunfire and silenced the shouts, cut through the wind and the traffic. It was a single exclamation mark that blotted out all noise.

The smoke and debris fast cleared. In its wake was left a ringing in Jane's ears, and a street full of broken Eggs. Those closest to the blast had been minced, and those behind them lay torn up and impaled by the countless purple shuriken propelled by the explosive. The scene of the massacre started to flicker as one by one the dead Eggs vanished in purple flashes, as the survivors climbed to their feet and replacements for the lost arrived in a chorus of shrill ringing.

Right, that cleared some space.

An eerie calm had fallen over Jane. A loud ringing still remained in her ears, but her head felt clear and serene. Even the wounds she'd receive didn't hurt so much.

Now what? There's still an unending amount of them. We could make a run for it while we're up here.   
CONSUM --E   
No, he'll just follow us and no doubt show up at an inconvenient time. Now for step two.

Jane sent the command to her modus, and her sylladex ejected the fenestrated plane it held. The gray windows, once reactualized from data, was large. Larger than a window ought, taller than Jane was tall and even wider than that. It actualized in mid-air and plummeted straight to the ground. It shook the street on impact and its four panes shattered. The back street grew darker, the light of civilisation consumed even as it filled out with more of the green suited man. 

Now how did that chant go again? Oh yes, Garnghut Blistershod, Damned Sentry of the Potbellied Exiles; the one bearing the number of four sixes and five. I do formally invite you to visit unholy acrimony upon our enemies, namely the multiplicative green loon down there. Much obliged and sincerely yours, Jane Sassacre née Crocker.

She dabbed away some of the blood from a cut on her brow and let it drip onto the broken window. 

Jane.

Yes, Dirk?

Did you seriously just summon a fucking watcher of the dark gods?

Why yes, Dirk. Yes I did.

Do I need to repeat myself to emphasize what a terrible thing that is?

It's only Garngut. Just think of him as more of a bouncer for the psuedofauna nightclub.

Well that's okay then. No, wait, let me try some synonyms of my own and make it all terrible again, because that is completely how words work in the real world.

Oh hush.

A horned head slammed up against dark window's fenestrations. Just below the horn, a pair of large nostrils flared, and sniffed at the air. The Eggs had finished regrouping, and were now split between investigating the fenestrated plane on the ground and pointing their guns at the woman and two robots hanging from a windowsill.

What do you think this is? You think you can scramble us so easily?

You think I'm scared of a little beast?

You think I'm scared to die?

The beast let out a raw, terrible and booming, and slammed its head against the window again, then a third time. The fourth time the fenestrations snapped and the beast emerged. It pulled itself up by two disproportionately short, spindly arms that looked like they could never hold its weight yet showed no signs of even slight exertion. Its flesh was dark and mottled, covered in blisters and growths. When it bellowed, it exposed a grotesque, thick tongue jutting out between a frame of large tombstone teeth. Two large, slitted eyes sat on the side of its head, one much larger than the other and both bulging like they might burst. Just below the eye jutted out a second horn, thick as a cedar trunk, half as long as a car, and curved up to a wicked point. The frame of the dark window cracked and buckled against Garnghut's emergence. His large side horn gouged out a whole chunk of metal as it forced its way out. Even then, its girth was too massive to make it all the way past the gateway to the furthest ring. 

Well

That sure is something.

The Eggs all stood and gawked at the Damned Sentry. One of them dropped his timer. 

Garnghut's larger eye swiveled in its socket, and fixed itself upon one of the green suited man. Snapped out of his stupor, Eggs aimed his gun right at the Blistershod's eye and squeezed the trigger. 

Before the bullet could even leave the chamber, that Eggs was already reduced to ash by a lance of scarlet light from Garngut's eye. The eye spun around, and a whole half of the amassed duplicates went up in smoke and silenced screams. The pack of Eggs turned tail and ran, but the colossal beast opened its mouth like a parting sea and gasped. 

Well, to call it a gasp was only somewhat accurate, in that there was an intake of breath and sound was made, but a gasp is normally a quiet, sudden thing. This was more like a reverse scream, horrible and prolonged, tainted by dark forces. It sounded like the death wail of the air itself as it was sucked to its demise, and with the air went the many green torsos occupying it. Eggs after Eggs was swallowed into that dark maw, their screams muted as the very air they cried into was torn away before it could carry his voices. 

Suddenly, like someone had thrown a breaker, the lights of civilization could be seen again. Garghut Blistershod had vanished, and the broken fenestrated plane fell to pieces on the ground. 

Is it over?

The brobots dropped to the street, Jane in tow. They set her down and drew their swords. Just one Eggs remained, lying prone on the ground. One of the brobots dashed over and picked him up in an arm lock.

Where's his timer?

I think it got eaten. Should I remove his hands to be sure?

Eggs started to stir, mumbling something angrily in half breaths. 

Nah. It's better when you start off clean.

What are you going to do with him?

Jane asked as she captchalogued the ruined window. It was useless now, but no sense leaving it lying around for anyone to find. 

Take him back to the hat cave. All things aside, this guy's still a member of the Felt. I can most likely extract some useful info from him.

Oh. Well, I think I'd better off asking nothing else on the subject then.

Yes, I think you'd better not.

The brobot that held Eggs hopped up onto a fire escape and leapt away. The only sign that the fight had happened at all were a few bullet holes, some broken glass, some damaged pavement, and a bit of Jane's blood here and there. The remaining brobot turned to Jane.

That was completely awful in every way. I guess the Felt are pretty hit and miss with how dangerous a given member is. How are you feeling?

Tired and a bit sore, but otherwise fine. Nothing some fresh laundry won't take care of. I'll probably feel worse when those gushers I took wear off.

She ignored the wet, sticky sensation around her shoulder. The brobot flicked the blood from its sword and captchalogued it. 

I still can't believe not a single person looked into a small army and a fucking dark defenestration. Some days I really hate this city.

Hey, everyone wants to stay asleep. Let's just hurry up and meet the hatters.

Jane took out her pipe and walked off as she packed it. The brobot chased after her.

Hey wait, what did you just say?


	10. A Few Ancient Feathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which people with orange text talk too much and then clown.

The building they came upon at the end of their venture was an old world style manor house, in the middle of a modest garden lot. In its entirety, the property took up the middle third of the city block, separated by high stone walls of crude cyclopean structure. The duo made their way to the intercom and Jane buzzed in.

Hello? This is Sassacre. We're here to see the Society.

There was silence before a full minute before someone responded. Jane noticed that their location was almost completely out of sight of the neighbouring buildings, as distant as they were though they shared the same street.

Do you have your hats?

The voice that crackled over the intercom was indistinct and hard to make out over the static noise of the old device. Jane turned to Dirk and puffed on her pipe, her eyebrow raised.

Do we have our hats?

We have a hat.

We have a hat.

She passed the message into the speaker, making sure to speak slowly and clearly in case the person on the other side was as daft as she suspected. People who presented themselves as having all the knowledge tented to be dangerous, loony, or both in her experience. The man living in a cave high above the city streets and operating a network of robot simulacrums while a digital replica of him instead chooses to help keep a secret bordello secret being the key example in the textbook of Jane’s life.

What, between you?

Between us?

No, each.

No, one hat each.

Are they suitably crumbled?

Are they-

Jane I can hear them just as good as you can. You still have your Dad's fedora, right?

Yes. I haven’t been wearing it since I lost my backup hat.

Good. That thing's old as balls and just a wrinkled.

Dirk, please, it’s an heirloom.

and all brobots are fitted with one totally sweet cap for whenever I damn well feel like it.

The brobot removed from its sylladex a plain blue baseball cap. It stared at it for a few seconds through its pointy orange lenses, then slammed it to the ground and stomped on it repeatedly. Once satisfied, it picked the cap back up and put it on.

Hats are suitably crumpled.

Janetook her finger of the buzzer and put her own hat on.

Then you may enter.

The gate pulled itself open with a mechanical groan of protest. It looked and sounded like it hadn’t known maintenance for years.

They had the resources and ingenuity to track me down, but they can't be bothered greasing their front gate?

Jane only shrugged in response, and set off down the path to the front porch. The path was paved with flat, dark rocks and similarly hued gravel that crunched loudly under step. All the surrounding plant life of the garden left the night air smelling strikingly sweet and fresh compared to most other parts of the city. Jane found it unfamiliar, but not entirely unpleasant. 

Upon the porch was an empty swing chair, pots of flowers hung from its beams. Beside it, a large heavy door of unpainted wood, with a brass knocker the shape of a firefly. Jane knocked once, thrice, four times. The door swung open in response, but no one stood behind it. A rich red carpet led from the door inside, and split off into two paths, one through a door to the left, the other to the right where it split again to a path leading up a staircase and a path leading to some other room.

Please, come in.

The voice from the speaker, smooth and haunting now freed from the static blare, echoed from deeper within the house. The pair of them followed the sound, and came out into a large, warm lounge room. A large fireplace cracked with purple flames. Above it someone had mounted the head of a giant turtle. Beside the fireplace sat a figure reclined on a couch, shrouded in dusky robes and wearing a two-tone purple scarf. 

Ah, Jane, I haven’t seen you since you were still in diapers. Do sit down. I made tea.

The figure gestured to the table, which had been laid out with cups and saucers and a platter of cocktail morsels. 

We've met?

Well, I'm sure it was far too long ago for you to remember.

Jane looked the figure up and down. Their black robe completely obscured most of their features of build and shape, but the occasional tuft of platinum blonde hair occasionally peaked just past the hem of their hood. Their lips were thin, and their mouth, hands, and voice all possessed a certain androgynous elegance to them. Jane also noticed that the hood was the only thing they wore on their head.

Where is your crumpled hat?

The figure put their hand to their chest and laughed. They sounded tired.

Oh, that's just a silly hazing thing. I do beg your pardon. You may call me Casey, or Bubbles if you like. I am viceroy and salamancer of the Crumplehat Society.

Casey spread their arms wide. The way the sleeves of their robe hung below their arms cast an ominous shadow across the wall, an effect that was wholly ruined by it still being some strange person on a couch with a steaming cup of tea before them.

Where is the rest of the society?

The brobot looked about the large room. The furniture was all expensive wood, leather and velvet. In one corner stood a taxidermied prospitan, its head bound in cloth. Portraits hung from the wall, yet most of the faces and names had been blotted out by splashes of dark ink. Jane took a seat, and raised a cup to her lips, but the brobot remained standing. Casey smiled.

Those that aren't ash or buried still have their own lives to attend to. Companies to run, money to handle, and media to influence, grandkids to knit sweaters for, you can imagine.

Grandkids?

Jane raised her eyebrow.

We of the Crumplehat have opposed Betty's unjust decrees since day one. Ah, that's day one of the reign of Crocker, not the Crumplehat Society. We actually predate her.

The salamancer laughed quietly.

Just how old are you?

The brobot walked up to the stuffed carapacian and peered at it.

Our society was founded by the original Crumplehat during the war, someone who took it upon themselves to disgrace their ancestors for the sake of future generations. We were one of the first dissident factions that rejected the idea that either side should win. Especially when the ectobiological experiments went out of hand.

Experiments?

Jane removed her pipe from her mouth to take a sip of tea. If the viceroy had any complaint about her smoking inside they hadn't voiced it, and judging by the ash tray on the table she doubted there would be. The tea was a rich black brew the sleuth was not familiar with.

Both sides wanted more powerful soldiers. It wasn't good enough to try and make the perfect carapace, they wanted more. First they started playing fast and loose with mutations, then started mixing in other stock. They made soldiers with bodies like beasts, warriors tainted by the void and possessing shadow magic, they tried to make gods and demons, and more than a few times succeeded.

Were you one of these experiments?

Oh my, no.

The salamancer snapped their fingers, and tendrils of gloom curled around their hand.

My dark gifts were taught and earned, not thrust upon without consent.

How do the heroes fit into all this?

The brobot wandered back over, but still refused to sit.

The Red Empress, she who had fled to this planet some generations before the kingdoms of light and dark arrived. She approached each crown in secret, and put a terrible plan in their heads, each side ignorant of her dealings with the other. Tell me, what do you know of paradox?

Quite a fair bit actually, 'Bubbles'.

They smiled and nodded.

Then you know that everything needs an origin point. To create an apple pie from scratch, you must first bring about a universe. Have you ever seen something come from nothing?

Are you familiar with the member of the Felt known as 'Eggs'?

Indeed. Then you are following me so far. That man has a device, something eternal and terrible, which allows him to go back in time. Such things can be done cleanly, but he chooses not to. He abuses the fabric of spacetime by necessitating far more timelines than there otherwise would be. Every time he is joined by his own future self, time is splintered.

Had.

Pardon, son?

His device was a shoddy eggtimer. It got eaten by a grue.

Casey sighed contently.

Then that is good news. However, we are getting off track. As I said, such process can be done cleanly. This requires folding cause and effect into a mobius. Something born this way exists independent of all creation, and it may redefine the universe around it.

Is that what they did? Made paradox weapons?

Oh yes, such terrible weapons, and such terrible paradox warriors to wield them.

How do you mean?

Jane leaned forward, rapt with attention.

What the Red Empress, Her Imperious Condescension did was give them forbidden technology that allowed them to access information from the future. This included not only information on how to create the weapons, but the genetic information to create great heroes.

The fifteen?

The very same. I knew some of them personally. When my family was taken in the crossfire, the Heir of Breath took me as his retainer. Later, the Seer of Light took me as her apprentice. Well, none of that is important.

You knew Poppop?

Her eyes widened and her mouth hung agape. Her pipe slipped past her lips and in a startled burst she scrambled to catch it.

Yes, but I can talk about him just a little later.

So if I'm following, all of the fifteen heroes, the four humans and the eleven trolls, they were ectoclones of themselves?

That's what we thought at first, but it later came to light that, in an attempt to maximize their power, they were actually the genetic product of individuals even further in the future who were paradox clones of themself.

Who?

We don't know, but the Condesce promised that she would ensure their creation. We think that was an attempt on her part to cement her continued existence for longer. Until she created the genetic source for the heroes, she couldn't die, since the heroes had already been made.

Is that why she was so hard to kill?

That woman was thorough and relentless in her pursuits. I don't doubt she managed to get herself granted immortality eleven times over. Regardless, she made sure the heroes were created, and then she stole two of them.

Who?

The Heir of Breath and the Witch of Space. No one but her knows why she took those two specifically, but take them she did. They were both Prospit's creations, perhaps she wanted Derse to think it held the advantage, it is not known. So while the other heroes were raised and trained by their kingdoms, and praised as saviours, these two endured an upbringing of tyranny and hardship in secret. Her plan failed though, the Witch of Space escaped while young, and forego the war to conspire with dark gods and demons to get revenge. As for the Heir of Breath, once she unleashed him upon the battlefield he showed himself more prone to helping bystanders that fighting either side, and openly colluded with heroes from both kingdoms. It was only just after he took me as a retainer that he was invited to the Crumplehate Society. With their help he made great breakthroughs in alchemy. He discovered a way to convert objects into their worth in grist by sacrificing something of equivalent value. The Crockercorp Gristwidget is based on his discoveries. We used this method to simultaneously destroy the weapons of both sides and to supply the relief effort.

Jane quietly ate a sweet biscuit, and then looked up to her host.

Well? Aren't you going to go on?

Ah, sorry, it's just that I realized I'd forgotten part of why I called you here in the first place. I trust your no-brained companion has the item?

You gonna unlock it like you said?

The brobot tapped its fingers on the back of its hand. 

Of course, a promise is a promise.

Before I hand you this I'd just like you to appreciate the huge risk I'm taking trusting you on this. I can't exactly replace it if you decide to feed it to some slobbering thing from beyond the stars.

I assure you I will not damage it, just open it.

The brobot walked over, and handed Casey the pendant. They held it up against the light of the fire and regarded it fondly.

Now let's see if dear featherface will still wake up.

The inky flagellum bound around the viceroy's wrist pried the pendant from Bubble's slender fingers and lifted it skywards. The shadow appendages split, doubling their number. Those not busy holding the pendant in place set about moving in synchronized formations, zapping the jewellery’s surface with lavender sparks. The way they moved, full of speed and precision, it called to mind those robotics demonstrations on the infomercials, where the latest in metal digit technology proves its worth by solving a Rubik’s Cube in less than four seconds. By the time the device itself had caught up with the input, Casey's ethereal manipulators had already set it down on an empty chair.

The orange light erupted from the tiny flat surface, and resumed the shape of an egg.

The egg shattered, and a screaming, impaled bird flew out.

It beat its chest with its wings frantically, desperately. Something tore, and a humanoid arm shot out from the wound. Wet with bright orange blood, the hand groped blindly about its stomach until it found the sword's hilt. 

The sword was torn out, and turned against the bird's other side. Another arm forced its way past feathers and flesh to freedom.

With both hands holding it, the sword was turn against the bird's neck. One might have expected it to fly off, or at least show some movement. Instead it simply vanished, and in its place was the human head of a slender young man. He returned the sword to the hole in his stomach with no sign of discomfort or pain, slicked his hair back with his hands, conjured up a pair of shades between his fingers and put them on.

Casey you spooky lizard's asshole, how many time do I have to tell you that your 'dark wizzzard majyyks' fuck with me something chronic? It leaves me so out of whack I've half a mind to turn this timeline right around and convince John to kick this weird kid he just found into a ravine.

The bird man stretched his arms and yawned, not even facing the person he was speaking to. A distortive flicker ran up his length, a bar of static snow sweeping across the projection. When he spoke, his voice sounded earily the same as Dirk's. He turned to the robot and the investigator watching him in stunned silence. 

Sorry, a few errors during extraction. Imagine waking up folded inside a mailbox and holding a boxcutter. No matter which way you claw yourself out it ain't gonna be pretty. So yeah, hi, I'm the ghost of Strider past, past, and more past. I used to be a bit more varied, but now here I am in the future, and everything I came from is the past compared to the present, including what used to be my present, and uh, shit. That was meant to sound a lot more wittier than that. Okay, no, just forget it. Hi, I'm Dave's Sprite.

The birdman raised his arm to scratch the back of his head, hesitated, then just gave a half shrug instead.

Okay, hang on, I can recover this.

He crossed his arms over his chest, winced, then repositioned them so one arm wasn't pressed against the blade of his torso-sword. 

I am the Great Gazoo. Who hasselhoff awoken me from my slumber? Yeah, that'll do.

The self-styled protégé of your legacy wanted to talk to you. While we were at it I felt your first-hand account might improve on my own learnings as to the conclusion of the war.

You sound like Rose now that you're old. Now you want me to get even more nostalgic? You are a cruel, heartless spawn of a witchalok. What happened to you, Casey, you used to be cool?

The Davesprite huffed and turned away. Casey chuckled softly to themself and held up a twiggy finger.

Tut tut, be nice to the children. Tell them about the final hour.

What's to tell? Everyone was sick of this shit. It was slowly dawning the whole war was a total waste of time to the last few suckers who hadn't already absconded. It turned out the whole mess was from the Condesce's meddling. Human society was a clown-soaked shambles. Troll society was having a major existential crisis. Chess people society was a smoking crater after the Derse Archagent got his hands on one of their most powerful weapons and just started blowing shit up for the hell of it. So Rose and the big guy gather up whoever was still willing to fight and not already gotten their ass shanked. And Seabitch...she kicked our asses. That's really all there is to say on the matter. Last thing anyone who wasn't dead saw, the two witches decided to show up. I got no idea what weird deals they'd struck with who knows what manner of dungeondimensional beings, but Jade looked like she was made of fire and lightning on acid, and Megido was shitting rainbows out her wands and eyes. All that was left was an irradiated crater going through a rebellious phase against time and physics. No point taking the xbox away, it'll just climb out the window and steal your car.

The room fell into silence. Jane quietly sipped her tea. Beside her, the brobot twitched every few seconds, like a decision had been made and broken and made anew in an endless recursion.

Please, continue.

Not much left. A bunch of people died, it might not even have been necessary, the survivors either helped rebuild or vanished, I got a couple bros to help me build some memorials, stash some dangerous stuff, then I went to sleep. Roll credits, everyone is very touched and gonna go blog about how much they are bawling and sobbing as they stare deadpan into a dim chat box.

Where did you hide the weapons?

The brobot straightened itself, and stood stiffly to ask the question. The bird man regarded the robot indifferently.

Why? Got a country you want off the map?

No, a baroness.

The sprite raised a thick eyebrow. 

And why does some crone warrant the keys to kingdom come?

Well, and I've had my hunches for a while, little things here and there. Not so little things behind closed door. Either the Condesce is Betty Crocker, or whoever is calling themself Betty Crocker is following in her footsteps. Either way, if she has half as many of the original fish bitch's secrets to not dying, I don't want to be running in unprepared. Jane, don't give me that look. I have not been unsubtle with my hints that there may be a human running this city-state but a troll, and one with an odd fixation on the Red Empress’s works.

For what it's worth, John and Jade both went by Crocker. I thought that was weird since the waterhag's name was Peixes, and the dude she'd shacked up with was called Sassacre.

The sprite idly scratched his chin, and gave no impression of being terribly concerned by the notion.

You think she was leaving a hole to fill in later? 'Oh, everyone's heard of the great hero John Crocker, this Betty woman must be connected to him, she seems trustworthy'.

Jane stared ahead blankly as the bird and bot openly speculated about the situation. A few days ago she had been a (mostly) lawful citizen, looking for her missing father and the one-day maybe inheritor of a corporate empire. Now she was on the run, her father was being held by gangsters, her great grandmother was an ancient tyrant sea-troll, and she was the heiress to a more literal empire. She suddenly felt very sore and very tired. Maybe if she just went to sleep, the whole dream would end.

I'm afraid that's just how things are. However, there is a bit more to this situation. If you tend to see this through to the end, find the troll named Feferi. We listen to the same dark gods, but they tell her different things to I.

Jane, we have an issue.

The brobot suddenly made a loud declaration, breaking off the conversation with the simulated bird man.

What is it?

I just managed to get into the day's police logs. Your place has been locked down. Now they're moving to places you might be. A large force also happens to be heading to Roxy's. If they think you're there they'll tear that place apart to find you, and if they do they'll uncovered enough incriminating stuff to get Roxy culled on the spot. It's too risky to just hope they move on by.

Sounds like our meeting as adjourned. However, feel free to come back any time.

The brobot turned to the sprite.

There are still a few more things I want to discuss with you.

Yeah, yeah, I'll just switch over to sleep mode until you need me again. I'm warning you though, if I get captured or lost, I'm breaking the enchantments binding my image to this thing in a finger-snop.

Sure thing, pal.

The copper glow surrounding the sprite wrapped around him, and folded his vissage back into the face of the pendant. The light dimmed, and the pendant was just an old trinket once more. The brobot strode over and snatched it up.

Come on, we gotta move.

The brobot tipped its rumpled cap to the robed figure on the couch, grabbed Jane arm and ran. When they hit the street, another brobot swooped down, took the pendant from the first, and bounded away. 

 

They ran all the way back to the public transportalizer booth. Where pedestrians wouldn't get out the way, they were shoved aside. They passed not a single drone, preserved by the district's own imposed isolation. They piled into the booth together and took it straight to the Elsewhere.

They emerged in a warzone.

The tables and chairs had been upturned to make crude cover. A few patrons lay dead on the ground. The entire front of the building was missing, leaving the place exposed to the night air. A large purple shuriken came to a stop right in front of Jane's face, crackling with red and blue.

oh 2hiit, iit'2 you.

The prophet Sollux floated in mid-air at the center of the floor, surrounded by a cloud of aubergine bees and an arsenal of pointy spinny things of all sizes. The cacophonous singing of angels rang clear as spring water from the street outside.

well don't jut2t 2tand there, fuckiing help me.

A tall, lanky troll holding a club wrought with nails leapt through the torn-open front of the Elsewhere. With a gesture of one hand, Sollux caught her in mid-air, with a gesture of the other, he used her face as a dartboard for his shuriken and tossed her back out.

What the bloody hell is going on?

Jane whipped out her fork with a shout, and the brobot drew its sword.

iit'2 tho2e fuckiing cultii2t 2hiit2. they're here for keep2.

Where's Roxy?

out2iide, fendiing them off whiile ii work here.

Work?

The psychic jerked a thumb at the trail of bees leading back from him through a door behind the counter.

ii'm tran2ferriing the maiinframe and everythiing on iit two a remote 2erver. There ii2 a lot of iincriiminatiing but iireplacable stuff on here and a certain 2omeone ha2 been fuckiing wiith my backup2. We’re throwing the trea2ure iin a lifeboat and 2cuttliing 2hiip, 2o two 2peak.

A good thing too, it looks like you've got drones and cops coming this way.

oh, good, calliing 911 fiinally worked. ii’ll go 2top the pre22e2.

If only. They're hunting for Jane. She found evidence implicating the Barony as giving orders to the Midnight Crew.

ii2 there anythiing you do that'2 not falliing down the cop2, 2hiithead? and where ii2 thii2 'eviidence' now?

Sollux raised both hands, and an encroaching trio of rainbow-clad carapacians were launched skyward from the entrance. 

Look, consider this the turning point. I've already delivered the evidence to safe hands. Once we properly regroup and see some demented troll, we're taking the war to Crocker's doorstep.

oh good, we're all goiing to diie. look, you can't help me wiith the tran2fer 2o get the hell out there and help rx.

Rather than waiting for an asnwer, Sollux seized the pair with his psionics and shunted them out onto the street. The pair picked themself up and readied their weapons. If the Elsewhere was a warzone, the street outside was the apocalypse. Angels swarmed the sky, screeching and singing and swooping down to pluck up more victims. The road was swollen with a variegation of brightly-clad trolls, prospitans, dersites and humans. 

JUST. FUCKING. I'M GONNA SSHTI THID GUN UP UR COLAN AN MICROWWAVVE YOUR BRAIINTH!

A cascade of blue sliced through the crowd, cutting down a whole row of the horde. Less than a second later another blast fired from the other end of the fray, as large as any military cannon. It incinerated a drove of cultists where they stood, yet barely impacted their number. Another second later, and Roxy leapt up from the ground just in front of the two.

Oh hya guyz, so gud f’you to drop by.

Roxy leaned Ahab's Crosshairs against the ground just long enough to take a swig of her hip flask, her scarf wound tightly around her neck and AR's pointy frame fixed securely on her face. In her other hand was a longer, much longer rifle, as long as she was tall and of a more human design, bright red and rugged to juxtapose the sleek blue troll design of the Crosshairs. At Roxy's feet was a bright green fenestrated plane. She swung the red rifle around and fired a shot at the awning of a building across the street. Another green plane appeared there. With her other hand she grabbed back up the Crosshairs and pointed it down the window at her feet and fired. The brilliant blue beam disappeared into the dark space it contained, and across the road the very same blue beam shot out from the other window, taking out a swarm of cultists running straight for her and tearing up the road beneath them in a spray of rock and tar chunks. The swarm of ferocity converged on her like a slow-moving wave, but Roxy just jumped back into the window and emerged on the other side. The horde, however, had now noticed the two newcomers. 

The brobot nodded to Jane and dashed off, a blur of steel and blood. The fenestrated plane in front of her vanished and Jane charged. Short, fast stabs were all she could afford, neither room nor time to put more than punctures to them with her fork. She crunched her red knuckles against a carapacian's jaw, launching him into the air. An angel swooped down and plucked him before he could fall, and carried him off screaming. 

Up close, Jane could see something odd about their weapons. No matter their weapon, be they hammers, clubs, blades or even a steel pie tin in one case, they all gave off a crackling rainbow smoke. Jane blocked a smashed bottle with her prosthetic arm and rather than shatter against the casing it actually gouged right through the plated casing. 

Dodge to the right. Duck. Parry then thrust.

The calm, monotonous instructions of her weapon went wholly ignored. No time to listen to the advisor, only time to react. Who the hell thought spoken combat instructions would actually be a useful feature on the field anyway?

Just shut the bloody hellyou oafish fork.

She jammed its prongs into a troll's thigh, kicked him off, and spun around just in time to see a human get carried away by an angel mid swing towards clubbing her across the head. She took a moment to jerk back the switch on the thing’s voice mod.

I think this is frankly their whole damn cult.

Jane punched some spike-belted human human in the solar plexus, and then kicked him in the knees.

They gotta run out a memabs soon, rigth?

Solly, how long until ur done tin tear?

Roxy's voice jumped all around the fight as she leapt from window to window.

2OON

how thoon?

JU2T FUCKIING 2OON, OKAY

Jane caught a glimpse of the brobot zipping by, trying to shake off the carapacian hand stuck to the end of its sword.

Do we have any sort of plan other than 'beat them before they beat us?

Jane shook her fist angrily in the direction of a troll in a silly hat's face.

Yeah! We hope to all hell we don't die before Solly gess done and then abskondski

Roxy flew past Jane horizontally between two fenestrated planes, her finger held down on the Crosshair's trigger. Its beam shredded a row of cultists as she passed. One of those struck began to pick herself back up, grinning madly despite her left arm and the left side of her painted face being completely burnt off. She lunged with an iridescent bonesaw, but was stopped by a bolt of white passing right through her spine.

Eridan Ampora strode down the street towards the brawl, smoking wand in hand. His coat was unbuttoned save the collar, and his arms were free of its sleeves. A shockwave from a blast of the Crosshairs hitting the pavement blew past him. One sleeve of his coat slapped him in the face from the gust and he flung his hands about like to shake it off, doing a flawless impression of a kid afraid of a bug.

wwho the fuck needs hope wwhen you havve eri I saw the angels an came runnin

He finally wrested control of his errant coat and flung the wayward sleeve behind him. He raised his wand and fired off three more bolts as he approached, one shot through a human's mask, one tore a lean carapacian in half and the third hit a troll square in the eye. The troll bellowed with laughter, and Eridan faltered mid-step. 

rox wwhat the fuck are wwe dealing wwith are these fuckin undead or some shit

Worse, Eri, clowwns.

AIN'T THAT THE MOTHERFUCKING TRUTH. you know what they say. CAN'T KEEP A GOOD CLOWN DOWN.

Someone broke from the crowd, and lunged at Eridan. The long, curved horns, fluctuating voice, that stupid hat, Jane recognized him instantly.

Gamzee you miserable wretch!

Jane switched her weapon's mode to blunt and set about beating her way towards the honking buffoon.

oh hey if it isn't my best fucking friend.

Gamzee struck at Eridan with a glowing juggling club, and when the seatroll shot it out of his hands with his wand the Makara didn't so much as blink before plucking a whip from his sylladex and lashing him across the chest with it. Eridan pitched back, shaking.

this is my best top damn it

He fired at Gamzee again, but the whip gave off sparks and was suddenly replaced by a spiked chain wrapped around the goat troll's hand. The chain took the brunt of the blast and shattered. Gamzee cackled madly, and slapped his foe across the face, the bits of metal now embedded in his hand leaving deep cuts on the seadweller's cheek. Eridan froze, thick purple blood dripping down the side of his face. Gamzee's head tilted to the side like a string had been snapped.

hey, you okay bro?

The sound that escaped Eridan Ampora's lips was not something commonly uttered by mortal tongues. It started with an approximate 'youmessmybeauface' and fast descended into the precise incoherent shrieking of a shark finding itself in the body of an endangered jungle bird with clipped wings. White bolts fired from his wand erratically, yet no matter where his wand happened to be haphazardly pointed they all shot straight at Gamzee. The painted laughed and swung his arms. A bizarre, rainbow warhammer appeared in his hands, and as he swung it the weapon lit up with the same chromatic shroud of every other weapon the cultists held. With the hammer in hand he gleefully struck down every one of Eridan's attacks as lackadaisically as an old man on a mountain swatting down flies. 

Having finally fought her way close enough to make a break for it, Jane switched her weapon's mode back to fork and lunged. Distracted by his fight with Eridan, Gamzee didn't see her coming. The red tines of her trident pierced his tender clown flesh and emerged out the other side.

wwhat the fuck you cyclops he wwas mine

Eridan was silenced by Gamzee's sudden laugh. 

come on now best fucking friend. WHAT the FUCK did i just SAY?

He dropped his hammer, and grabbed one of her trident's outside tines in each hand.

you

Both his arms tensed beneath his baggy clothes.

CAN'T

The tines shook violently under his hold.

keep

They stapped clean off. The highblood hissed through clenched teeth and threw them to the ground.

A GOOD

He took up his hammer again in a swooping motion, and struck the remaining tine like a wack-a-digbeast. Jane's now-unident was forced out of him, and Jane fell backwards along with it.

clown

With a back handed swing he knocked Eridan moonward away from him.

DOWN

A green window appeared beneath Gamzee's feet just as he took a step towards Jane. The clown let out a long, loud honk as he fell from roughly three stories up from where the other window sat on a billboard’s face. Another shot sounded off, and Roxy jumped out from the window beside the sleuth. 

Hey, I totes think they starting to run ut fo nasty clouns.

yeah okay and wwhat noww

Roxy flicked her hair with a tired laugh as Jane and Eridan each picked themself up. She raised one hand to her mouth and yelled.

SOLLY, YOU DONE WIT THE THIGN?

EHEHEHEHEHE NOPE. WHAT EVEN II2 ALL THII2 2HIIT?

She didn't bother replying.

Well it looks like imma gonna need eben more angle majyyks

oh swweet fuck no

Oh yeah boi, that cloun what be whooping you before. He had that werid cherub stonk about it.

Roxy put away both her rifles, and took from her sylladex an open box of special stardust.

Cover momma Roxy while she works her majyyks

Eridan let out a protracted groan, tossing his head side to side and mouthing curses in childish protest, then raised his wand and shot a cultist lunging at them with a ladder. Roxy poured some of the stardust into her hand, and splashed herself in the face with it.

you go that side an ill covver this side

Time t' fagt cherube with cheboob.

wwhen she changes you fuckin run

AR, back me up. ain't got time for a legit summon cant

Sure, why not. It'll only make shifting all our data take roughly six point one six seconds longer. I'll use the script our dear prophet customized.

Uuuu got it.

Her fork reduced to more of a spear than a trident, and not looking too flash, Jane switched it back to spoon. She swung it against a painted carapacian and cracked his shelled head like an egg. A bolt of white soared over her shoulder and took down the wide-girthed troll behind him. 

Beginz neural emulationan. Ego login Roxy Lalonde. Run demiimonde_2emiigode22_chant_uroboru2.~ath

bifurcate THIS[ THIS ,  THIS ];  
import cherub UU;  
import faithful RL;

~ATH(UU) {

~ATH(RL) {

} EXECUTE(~ATH( THIS ){}EXECUTE(NULL));

} EXECUTE(~ATH( THIS ){}EXECUTE(NULL));

[THIS, THIS].DIE();

Roxy?

An aberrant grin spread across the Lalonde's face, frozen and strained. 

No good talking to her.

What did she just do?

Well it turns out you can compress a ten stanza chant devoting yourself to a deity and her works until the end of all things and call upon a pact with one of their servants into roughly eight lines of code.

Roxy threw her head back and laughed, her cheeks marked by a pair of otherworldy flush spirals. She charged to meet the advancing cultists and Jane hurled herself out of the way as the Lalonde barreled past her. The angels blotting out the sky parted as she ran below them. Roxy's body shimmered with opalescence rising from her fists and eyes. Where the light passed over her it distorted her visage, like a reflection in a soap bubble, or an image on a cracked screen. Hair of pink and teal, a dress of green, the shadow of a dark mother, a faceless Cheshire cat, the sickening stench of saturated candy. Her fists crackled. She struck left and right, sent painted fanatics flying, and when Gamzee fell upon her with his hammer she met his blow head on and they both burst into laughter. 

Jane readied her spade of a spoon to charge after her, but a lance of pain up her right side halted her. In an instant the brobot was back by her side. 

How are you holding up?

Not as good as I'd like to admit, hoo.

She sighed, took out her blue gushers and swallowed two. Eridan walked past her, his head held high and cheek still bloody. 

you sit this one out this is for someone wwith a bit more blood to lose

He stepped right onto a severed hand, slipped, and fell groundwards face first. 

ehehehehehe, ed when wiill you learn that the uniiver2e hate2 you?

Sollux emerged from the ruined bar, surrounded by his swarm of bees. Sirens wailed in the distance. The psionic troll floated over, and looked both Jane and the brobot up and down. 

whereabout2 where you two headiing agaiin?

We need to meet a troll named Feferi.

Sollux turned back to Eridan. 

that'2 your domaiin ed.

like hell it is i cant just leavve rox here while shes gone all tricksterbright

look, one of u2 ha2 two get rx out of there and the other ha2 two take the2e two ff, and between u2 you're not the one 2uppo2ed two be calmiing her down.

He glared at Eridan through his vision twofold. The seadweller just crossed his arms and huffed. 

tell you wwhat make it a test

you 2eriiou2ly want two wager on thii2?

yeah i fuckin do and wwell make it quick since this is not my jurisdiction and the real guys are comin

you know what, fiine, ju2t two 2hut you up.

good i kneww i could count on you to see things my wway

ju2t name the fuckiing term2

ten seconds wwhoever can fell the most shitty clowwns in ten seconds wwins and the loser has to take these chumps to fef

you're on.

The two trolls ran into the fray, white bolts and bicolored beams firing as they assaulted the mob. Though countless cultists lay unmoving on the street, still more kept pouring in from the unseen edifices and burrows of the city. It was starting to dawn on Jane the degree of proliferation the cult possessed, and each member had both been granted some strange boon and was fanatical enough to throw their life away. The swarm of angels picked them off one by one but reinforcements came in two by two and five by five. Any who got too close to Jane were cut down by the brobot by her side. 

I AM ERIDAN AMPORA AN I AM PRINCE OF ALL THESE SHITTY ANGELS BEWWARE MY WWRATH PISSBLOOD

the 2emiigode22 2ay2 you can choke on my bulge ed.

When the police cars and armored drones began to arrive, it was Eridan who ran swearing from the fight, cursing the Captor name under his breath. 

followw me to trollslum

The pair ran after him, Jane clutching her side with her hand. 

You need me to carry you?

Not that helpless yet. My wounds are just a bit sore.

She popped a red gusher and another blue one. They rounded a corner, and almost ran right into Eridan. He stood, completely immobile, facing them when they turned the corner into him. 

What's the big idea?

1M TH3 B1G 1D34

Terezi Pyrope stood behind Eridan, the first two inches of her sword-cane's blade exposed and held against the seatroll's neck. 

wwell fuck

1ND33D MR S34M4N. 4ND 4S Th3Y S4Y, WH4TS 4LL TH1S TH3N?

Jane looked to the brobot, then back to Terezi. Her red jacket was a crumpled mess, and looked like she'd been sleeping in it. She was standing unsteadily, and her hands were trembling on her cane. She was breathing short and shallowly, taking long sniffs every few seconds. 

1 DONT L1K3 1T J4N3. 1 DONT L1K3 1T 4T 4ll.

She redoubled her hold on Eridan and ground her teeth. A message blipped up on the display of Jane's lenscomp. 

\--  timeusTestified [TT] began bothering  gutsyGumshoe [GG] \--  
TT: How do you want to handle this, Sassacre?  
GG: Let's just talk for a minute. If you see an opening, try to take her out without kiling her.  
TT: Getting a soft spot for your nemesis?  
GG: ...  
\--  timeusTestified [TT] ceased bothering  gutsyGumshoe [GG] \--

1 DONT L1K3 TH3S3 ORD3RS. 1 DONT G3T TH3S3 ORD3RS. TH3Y S4Y YOUR3 P4RT OF 4 T3RROR1ST C3LL 4ND TRY1NG TO BR1NG DOWN TH3 GOV3RNM3NT. TH3Y S4Y YOU JUST CONDUCT3D 4 M4SS4CR3 TO S3ND 4 ST4T3M3NT. TH3Y T3LL M3 TH3S3 TH1NGS 4ND S4Y 1T W4S YOU BUT TH3S3 TH1NGS M4K3 NO S3NS3.

There is a setup going on, Terezi. If you follow your orders, you will be aiding and abetting a criminal, not justice.

Jane spoke calmly and evenly, watching Terezi's every move. The tealblood drifted listlessly to one side, the forced herself to stand straight. 

1 DONT G3T 1T 1 DONT G3T 1T 1 DONT G3T 1T. 1 DONT G3T WHY TH3 FORC3 1S B31Ng ORD3R3D L1K3 1T 1S. 4LL 1 C4N DO 1S 4PPR3H3ND TH3 CR1M1N4LS 4ND 1 H4V3 PROOF. PROOF TH4T YOU 4R3 1N C4HOOTS W1TH TH3 SP1D3RTROLL.

Vriska? Vriska doesn't have anything to do with any of this.

She forced herself not to snap, but still came close. 

1 DONT C4R3. CR1M1N4L. 1F YOUR3 W1TH H3R TH4T M4K3S YOU 4 CR1M1N4L 4ND M4YB3 1F 1 4RR3ST YOU TH1NGS W1LL ST4RT M4K1NG S3NS3.

Come on Pyrope, think about what will happen if you do this.

1 DONT KNOW!!

Terezi, please.

Eridan very carefully cleared his throat. 

hey cop wwhat you say your name wwas

T3R3Z1 PYROP3

really wwell thats nice tez cause you see my name is eridan fucking ampora and i am a captain in the military police of medality you wwant proof just look at my jacket

T3R3Z1 C4NT LOOK, S1R. SH3S BL1ND. BUT 1 DO SM3LL SOM3 COLORFUL P1PS

The blind tealblood's tongue lolled out of her mouth, and flicked up the underside of Eridan's cheek fins. 

please nevver do that again or so help me i wwill sing angelic lullabies to you as you sleep

TH4T DO3SNT SOUND SO B4D

thats because youvve nevver seen an angel

Eridan swallowed, and steeled himself. 

noww as a captain a the military police i am vvery wwell qualified to tell you that some rather sevvere corruption has been found in the city states command structure

1 DONT TH1NK YOU H4V3 TH3 4UTHOR1TY TO 1SSU3 M3 ORD3RS, S1R

no but i havve the authority to ask you kindly to take that fuckin swword awway from my neck

Terezi seemed to consider this, and mulled it over in silence. Eridan quietly worried his lip with his jagged shark-like teeth. 

OK4Y!

The moment she lowered her weapon, Terezi collapsed to the ground. In a single instant the brobot had moved behind her and struck the trolls neck with the back of his blade. 

oh thank swweet flippin fuck

She could literally get back up any second, we have to move.

The trio left the blind troll unconscious on the side of the street and kept running. 


	11. They Who Sleep and They Who Live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The things yet buried in the old dark kingdom

In the lofty heights of the hat cave, inside a small, sealed off room, a rotund green man had been seated and tied to a chair; a plain fold out desk sat in front of him, his body ached all over, it was boiling hot, and he felt like someone had taken a frying pan to his brain. The room was lit by a single hanging lamp that probably did more for the temperature than it did for visibility.

I hate seeing you like this, bro. It's tearing me up inside. You're a mess. But I can't stop him. Not when he gets like this. Please, you just gotta give him what he wants.

Eggs stared wide-eyed at the deranged human. Pointy shades, pointy hair, dry pointy speech. Even his gestures were sharp, pointed, and minimalistic. There was a weird flicker about him, like he'd just started to move, or wasn't there at all, but he remained right there where he stood and the flicker kept happening. Then, on the desk, was the puppet.

Come on bro, it can all end.

It was impossible to tell what was worse, the monotonous pleading, or the puppet. The man leaned in real close, his face just next to Eggs'. 

Please.

It would have been worse except the puppet's face was already right next to him. The puppet, the puppet, with too-blue eyes and a little gray baseball cap. The puppet with a frozen grin and blood red cheeks. The puppet with a blue shirt that said Cal worn over the top of a pin striped orange suit. Like the tick of a clock, the puppet's eyes were suddenly on him, staring at him, judging him.

The puppet punched him in the eye.

Eggs screamed.

Just tell him what he wants to know.

The man begged, deadpan as a wall and flat as paper.

I don't know what he wants!

The puppet kicked Eggs in the teeth. It happened. He knew it happened. He knew it happened. Yet the puppet remained perfectly stillm right where it was before. Did he just imagine it? Was the pain in his mouth also just imagined?

You're making Cal angry. I really wish you wouldn't make Cal angry.

The puppet poured hot coffee onto his lap. Eggs yelled in pain and struggled against his bonds. 

There hadn't even been any hot coffee in the room. Not a single cup, mug, or pot had been on the desk. Now it had been fully laid out with a plastic tea set. There was even a little plastic plate filled covered in fresh cookies.

The puppet hurled one of the cookies at Eggs' face so hard it shattered into a rain of crumbs. The green-suited man broke down into gross sobbing. The puppet laughed. It laughed.

 

 

 

It took only a slight detour to slip into Trollslum unnoticed, to take a route that didn't go past the drones that patrolled it's gates. The place seemed quieter somehow, compared to when Jane was last there. The sounds of both violence and cheer were greatly reduced compared to last time. The streets were much emptier, and the trolls who did dare venture outside seemed much warier. Once they were safely inside the ghetto, Eridan had slowed their pace to a brisk walk. He held an expensive looking handkerchief to his cut up cheek, and his gills bristled with irritation.

I'd just like to thank you for putting your neck out back there. Pulling rank on Terezi like that, I mean. I hope it doesn't put your job in jeopardy.

hah chill your protein chute i got both my owwn agenda an more important things than my job to wworry about

Well that's very generous of you still.

jan do not get me wwrong i am a fuckin wwhite wwizard evven if they dared kick me out itd be honorable on account a the publicity surrounding the career a such a unique military asset and i could get in wwherevver the hell else i wwanted or evven just run it solo wwith an army of outlawws or some shit

He lifted the handkerchief of his cheek and examined it. His expression pulled back into a contemptuous sneer at the sight of his own blood soaking into the fabric, like the fluid had betrayed him by abandoning his body just because of a mere wound.

actually that might be an idea i could take rox and become a mercenary or a pirate or somethin along those lines.

A pirate? What are you gonna do, call yourself the wwhite wwizzard of the wwavves?

oh wwoww thats a great name wwhy didnt i think a that

Eridan grinned like a child at the brobot. The insincerity poured off him like water from a greased and dye-streaked duck's back. The brobot rolled its head around its shoulders, the closest approximate gesture to rolling eyes available to one without actual eyes, then looked about the cleared streets.

So where is everyone anyway? Normally this place is much busier.

evveryone knowws big wwhale of a thing is on the horizon an no one wwants to be in the shadoww of it wwhen omen wwilly starts to fall

The aquatic troll tossed his handkerchief aside with a sniff, pulled out a fresh one and pressed it to his cheek.

a troll can smell a wwar coming miles awway an evven though theres no clue wwho vversus wwho evveryones either buildin themself a bunker pile or signin up for arms at wwoevver wwill hand them out

But its only been a few days since I was here last, and this is much emptier than it was then.

Jane's mechanical arm whirred as she cast it about their current street, a path of cracked concrete before shambled hive stems which they shared only with sleeping troll upon a broken stair. 

a wwise conqueror once said a trolls vvascular system beats to the sound a wwar shellskins an wwhat that means is that wwevve an uncanny but not unempirical knack for making accurate judgements at just wwhen the people wwere observvin are expectin the conflict to begin

Finally satisfied that the bleeding had stopped, Eridan wiped the smears from his cheek with the other side and tossed the second handkerchief away. The troll that Jane had earlier pegged as sleeping immediantly lurched into action, and flung himself upon the discarded kerchief, for its fabric or its blood Jane knew not.

wwhat it comes dowwn is that any halfwwit troll only has to glance at howw the folks are bein movved by the baroness to see shes expectin or outright plannin to wwage all out vviolence any day noww

And how does this Feferi person fit into the picture?

wwell for one fef is one a the folks thinkin theyre gonna be on the receivvin end if theyre not careful

Just why might that be?

They were well off the main streets of the slum now. Jane's eye darted from shadow to shadow, wary of being attacked again. Did something just meow?

wwell for one howw many colors do you think trolls come in

Ten

Twelve, not counting some rare recurrent mutant strains.

the toaster has it come on jan wwhy you gotta be so ignorant a your felloww citizens society

Your people are not exactly forthcoming with what life was like before you came to Earth.

noww thats just racist jan but im a right up magnanimous sort so ill forgivve you

So this Feferi is one of the two lost hues?

yeah the limebloods wwere gone before wwe fled and the emperess wwas the last a the fuchsias

They reached the foot of a modest hill. A breeze blew past, carried with it the musk of death. Atop the hill was a leafless tree, and from its branches swung dead bodies tied there by nooses. Little law enforcement bothered to set foot in the trollslum. They took care of their own executions. Eridan led them around the hill's base to a tunnel that had been carved through it.

last one until fef got shit out by the ectolab's surrogrub slurry mixer that is i bet that wwas a riot to behold

In the gloom of night, the tunnel's stretching dark was completely impenetrable to the naked eye, and while Jane and the brobot both possessed their own nightvision technology, Eridan came of a nocturnal race, and his partiuclar blood breed one used to swimming in dark depths of black ocean waters. They stepped into the tunnels cimmerious dark passage unhindered.

I suppose it was only a matter of time. Someone somewhere was bound to have enough magenta in their genes for it to be dominant in a spawn of theirs. Hell, there's probably a few limeys running around trying to keep a low profile. So let me guess, some folk think that because she's of the imperial caste she should be in charge?

rather that for better or wworse she could be see they say one a the attendants on duty that night had wwitnessed her condesencions tyranny first hand and tried to kill fef on the spot evven though she wwas just a grub

Would you have done the same?

noww is hardly the time for a debate on genetic predisposition tinface the point is she didnt die someone snuck in an snuck her out and shes been underground evver since

The tallest of the three, the brobot was forced to stoop down by the tunnel's low ceiling. They traveled in silence. Something deeply sobering about the passage stayed their tongues, and none could think of any pressing questions to ask the others. After a timeless stretch, far from the moon and stars, they came out into an expansive cavern. 

Luminous blue crystal growths formed extravagant swirling patterns on the walls and ceiling that seemed downright unnatural in their patterns. More than two thirds of the cavern was taken up by what appeared to be some sort of underground lake, and at the water's edge was gathered a small number of trolls. One of their number sniffed the air as the trio entered, and leapt to her feet.

ac reconizes the smell of a certain squishy human, and is curimouse just what she thinks she's doing here.

Nepeta? So this is the 'fishy purrincess' you 'didn't mention'?

The cat-like troll barreled towards them, her clawed gloved outstretched.

is ac gonna have to predate a snitch?

She leapt, and was caught midair at the wrist by the brobot.

No kitty, bad. We're here to talk.

The brobot dropped her to the ground. Nepeta bared her teeth, hissed and ran back to the water's edge.

RIGHT. WE'VE BEEN COMPROMISED. ALL YOU BILGESUCKERS KNOW THE DRILL OR ARE CERTAINLY GOING TO DIE PRETENDING YOU DO. LOOK ALIVE YOU FILTHY PIECES OF DISTENDED LOAD SPHINCTERS BEFORE I MAKE THAT A SERIOUSLY HARD IMPERSONATION FOR YOU TO ACCOMPLISH.

At the cankerous shouting from one of them, the remaining congregation of trolls jumped to attention and drew their weapons. Blades and barrels glinted in the cavern's strange phosphorescence. At the forefront stood a taut, wiry troll, clad in a dark jacket worn over an unmarked bodysuit. 

O)( stand down, crabcakes. Y -E -ES)(, you don't )(ave to glubbing t)(res)( all of our guests.

A feminine voice rang out, wet and dark and with a quality that could only be described as absolute. It was the brine and the tide and the ripples of a rock skipped across water. The accent behind it was peculiar too, whenever it tried to pronounce an h the sound got all distorted, and when it got excited it soared in pitch, such that around e sounds the vocalizations seemed to drop in and out of audible range. From the brackish water a figure leapt ashore, flung through the air in a perfect arc and landing with preternatural grace. Water dripped off her svelt body, and the tall, curved horns rising from the shimmering white forest of hair marked this new speaker as a troll, but very off.

Bjnj ieaal, Jane Crocker, I am the Feferi you've been fis)(ing for, and welcome fellow )(eiress to my D -ELI)(TFUL abode.

A murmur of hissed whispers went up among the trolls. The words 'Crocker' and 'heiress' were most repeated.

heya fef

and if it isn't my favorite double agent, I really must t)(ankyou for bringing my sister )(ere.

eh wwatevver

How do you know who I am?

Jane's first instinct was to go for her fork, but the device was still damaged, and provoking the high-strung group seemed a poor choice. The brobot remained motionless and silent.

W)(y, our dark mot)(er glubs about you ALL T)(-E TIM-E.

The strange speaker ran, no, glided towards Jane at startling speed, and clasped the sleuth's hands in her own, and beamed with a sharklike grin. Up close, Jane could see what had seemed off before. The girl's skin was gray, much much darker gray than normal for any troll. Her hands were cold as ice, yet even though they dripped with liquid shadows, Jane could feel no wetness. The troll's eyes, covered by a pair of strange, eclectic goggles were white, not orange but endless glowing white, marked with two glowing pinpricks of brilliant magenta. Though no strong breeze blew in the cave, the troll's unnaturally white hair shimmered and drifted like kelp under waves. This was the same taint Jane had seen Casey display before, but many magnitudes greater. A dull, aching throb blossomed within Jane's skull.

Dark mother?

The troll let go, and slowly floated to horizontal off the ground like she was caught in a tide. All manner of decorations hung down from her neck and arms, beads, chains, colorful twine, bottlecaps twisted together into a crude bracelet, wires, laces, colorful rubber tubes and the odd bit of gold paraphernalia.

Great mot)(er, grand mot)(er, glub mot)(er Gl'bgolyb. In )(er )(ouse beneat)( t)(is city, s)(e waits dreaming. S)(e dreams of the survivor wit)( the red rig)(t )(and. S)(e dreams of ruby and emerald swords, two speakers, three )(eirs, four aces flus)(ed, s)(e dreams, and as s)(e dreams s)(e w)(ispers.

Oh come on, what does any of that even mean? You're just speaking in riddles.

Jane threw her hands up.

yeah she does that

Eridan let out a grumbling sigh, and scratched behind his cheek fins. The other trolls by the waterline eyed him warily. The sleuth got the impression he wasn't truly accepted by the others in the strange creche.

W)(at is a barony? A domain governed wit)( respect to a king. Yet t)(e one w)(o rules bows to no lord, and instead seeks to be a queen. If only s)(e weren't so glubbing greedy, s)(e )(ave it all. Moray t)(e the pity, but s)(e won't be missed. T)(oug)( it were many years ago t)(at s)(e turned )(er back on our dark mot)(er, it is only today t)(at s)(e s)(ell be punis)(ed. )(ee)(ee, well, relatively glubbing that is. S)(e will fall, s)(e must fall, and one of us tw must succeed )(er.

What the hoo hoo does any of that have to do with me? I don't want to take over anything. I just want my father back.

S)(e )(as lived a double life. No, many more lives than t)(at, lives s)(e has STOL -EN and lives she has used to plunder. Double dealings and backstabbings and all for GR -E -ED. )( -E -E )( -E -E. It all comes down to two, though. The life of Peixes, w)(o came from the sea to conquer and cull. The life of Crocker, w)(o came from the stars to rule, w)(o took a )(uman lover and )(uman c)(ildren and a )(uman name. I am )(eiress to the former, you are )(eiress to the latter. We both )(ave equal claim w)(en time comes to divide her spoils.

So you intend to take over when the Baroness is gone, am I getting this right?

The brobot uncrossed its arms, finally speaking up. 

W)(at's wrong puppet man? J -EALOUS? )( -E -E )( -E -E

Feferi drifted through the air towards the metal simulacrum, and stroked her palm against its featureless face.

I'm not about to over throw tyranny just to put another dictator in place.

O)(O? More than a little s)(ellfis)( of you, frond. Maybe if you opened your )(eart to our dark mot)(er, somet)(ing might be s)(oaled up.

She flipped around in mid air and dropped down behind the brobot. She took one long, twisted nail and slowly dragged it down the brobot's spine. The screech of metal being gouged echoed back and forth around the cavern, and forced everyone else to cover their ears. The seatroll giggled, her cheekfins flapping merrily like sashaying furbelows.

You break it, fishcakes, you bought it, and kid, you couldn't afford it.

Feferi puffed her cheeks impertinently and kicked off from the brobot, swimming up towards the cavern's ceiling.

SUC)( a grumpy guppy. Maybe I won't kelp you guys after all.

Help us how?

O)()()(? More inklined to )(ear me out now, are you?

What did you have in mind?

I've been staging my own undermining operation, just as much as you )(ave. I )(ave been very very crayful, but not QUIT -E enough.

You got caught?

I got found out. Betty knows I exist, and w)(o at least some of my agents are. SO S)( -E S -ENT M -E A L -ETT -ER.

The seatroll threw her head back and laughed, flinging drops of shadow all across the cavern with the movement of her hair in a surreal black rain.

Jane, this fish is completely brain fried.

Feferi shot back down to the cave floor, stopping right in front of the brobot's immobile face.

O)( come now, this city's been mad years now. Lig)(ten up a little.

The sea troll flicked out a pair of gilded envelopes, then disappeared them back into her sylladex.

It's an INVITATION. The would-be-queen is throwing a party and I'm all invited. Says she wants to discuss improving the lives of those in the trollslum.

With a backwards flip, she swum around and around in a vertical loop, cackling madly.

I S -E-E YOUR SINK -ER, N -Ev -ER GONNA HOOK M -E.

With a snap of her foot off the ground, Feferi corkscrewed through the air to Jane and latched onto her robotic arm. The prosthetic sparked distressingly wherever the troll's liquid black shroud dripped onto it, but the giggling girl paid it no mind.

But silly little you could make use of it.

OH SURE, GIVE OUR MOST DIRECT MEANS OF DIVERTING THIS CATEGORY FIVE SHITSTORM TO SOME DOUCHESHITTING INCOMPETANT BULGEFUCK THAT WILL SURELY MAKE EVERYTHING WORSE THAN IT ALREADY WOULD BE.

The loud troll in the bodysuit and jacket stomped into the conversation, leaving the other uncertain trolls standing by the waters edge as they wordlessly observed the exchange. Feferi glared at the loud troll through glowing, goggled eyes and puffed her cheeks.

CRABCAK -E, do you mind?

YEAH I DO MIND. I MIND WHEN YOU GO AND MAKE CRITICAL DECISIONS THAT COULD HEAVILY IMPACT JUST HOW NOOKWRECKED OUR OUR ALREADY BULGEFUCKED PEOPLE COULD BE IN FUTURE. YOU'RE NO EMPRESS YET, AND EVEN IF YOUR ALGAE ENCRUSTED WATERLOGGED PLAN DOES COME TO FRUITION BY SOME OUTRIGHT MIRACLE OF METAPHORICAL BOTANY, DON'T THINK FOR A SECOND THE WHOLE WORLD WILL JUST ROLL ONTO ITS VERTEBRAL SUPPORT COLUMN TO LET YOU PROBE ITS BODY WITH YOUR FREAKY SQUID TAINTED FINGERS. NOW ARE YOU COMPLETELY SURE THAT THIS KRINGLEFUCKING WRETCHED PILE OF STEAMING SHIT IDEA OF YOURS IS THE BEST COURSE OF ACTION

With every exclamation, he jabbed Feferi in the chest with a gloved finger, which was not an easy task considering her perpendicular, airborne position. The inky black shroud that covered her ceased dripping. A sizzle ran through it, and it bubbled with rapidly savagery like it had been flash boiled. Her eyes flashed, and Jane thought she might strike this 'Karkat' down right there, with all the terrible power she wielded. 

I'm sorry Karkat. I can't explain it in a way you'll like, but t)(s IS t)(e best choice.

She shook her head sadly, and that was that. In either placation or surrender, Karkat snorted and walked back to the others, grumbling under his breath. The dark sea the royal troll swam in was as peaceful as ever, no sign of the flash of anger. She turned back to the brobot and Jane.

If the mayor is assassinated, one way or another the Golden Cairn will become our enemy. It will be so much harder to cleanse two corrupt city-states instead of just one, so you see )(ow important this is. So, are you in?

She held out the letters of inviation, folded neatly back inside their envelopes. The brobot let out an abrupt burst of feedback probably meant to emulate a tongue click, and took one.

You're a demented fish that's unnervingly loyal to some sort of dead god that apparently sleeps below this city, but you still seem a right degree better choice than who's currently sitting upstairs. If for no other reason than I can probably take you on myself.

If this is what it takes to get my father back then I'm not going to just walk away.

Jane carefully took the other invitation and captchalogued it.

Now t)(e gala is just around the corner, you two, so I suggest you go buy yours)(ellf somet)(ing -EXTRA pretty.

Oh don't worry, I got some people making a few choice purchases as we speak.

The brobot let out a distorted chuckle.

O)(, one more t)(ing to know. T)(at number, t)(at always comes up w)(en people talk about t)(e past. It's off by ON -E!

She sang out in an almost scream, and threw herself back under the murky waters.

thank fuck one more stinkin fish pun an i think i might havve barfed

 

 

On the other side of the undercity ruins, an explosion rumbled through a vast stone corridor. Two trolls, a human and a robot stood outside the blown-open entrance to a walled over passageway. With a bit of algebra, you could probably make the group equate to a naked human, one and a half trolls, and two robots. 

8ooyah! This is the spot. I'm sure of it.

yOU SAID THAT ABOUT THE LAST SPOT, aND THE SPOT BEFORE THAT, aND, wELL, tHE SPOT BEFORE THAT YOU JUST SORT OF, kICKED A WALL IN FOR NO REASON,

The air was pungent with mildew and rotten plant matter. The sound of eight pairs of footsteps and sporadic bickering echoed off the smooth stone walls, the group's arguments both following and preceding them.

It was asking for it. That dum8 uppity mosaic needed to 8e put in its place.

yOU SAID THE SAME THING ABOUT THE PARKING METER YOU BROKE YESTERDAY,

Was I wrong? Was its place not 8elting in the engine of that patrol car that cut us off last week?

bUT DID YOU HAVE TO HAVE THE THING MOUNTED, i MEAN, wHAT SORT OF CONVERSATION PIECE IS A BENT PERMIT DISPENSER, 'oH YES,' yOU WILL SAY TO OUR GUESTS, 'dUE TO POOR IMPULSE CONTROL, i CAUSED EIGHT HUNDRED CHITS OF PROPERTY DAMAGE,' aLTHOUGH NOW THAT i THINK ABOUT IT, tHAT'S HOW MOST OF YOUR ANECDOTES GO,

Shut the fuck up Tavros, that pole looks gr8 a8ove our fireplace.

wE DON'T HAVE A FIREPLACE, yOU WELDED IT TO AN ANTIQUE SHIELD THAT YOU RIVETED TO THE TOP OF OUR FORGE, nOW ITS WORTHLESS AS A COLLECTORS ITEM,

Oh come on, those things are worthless the min8 you 8r8k the air seal on the glass case.

i DONT THINK ANTIQUES WORK LIKE THAT, lEAST OF ALL IRREPLACABLE ONES, rECOVERED FROM THE GROUND OF ANCIENT BATTLES,

It does 8ecause I say it does!

Haha you two sure are quite a pair.

Can it, aurora 8orealis face. Make yourself useful and take the lead, put those 8ig ugly stro8e lights on your head to good use.

Vriska jabbed her thumb down the freshly excavated tunnel and jerked her head.

Hop to it, 8lingee 8oy.

Right you are. Dag nab it let's put these rainbow oglers to good use. Do you think there will be any traps? Giant boulders and punji pits and slowly descending ceilings? Ooh my knees are knocking in excitement just thinking about it.

Jake marched ahead,his golden guns drawn and a goofy smile on the uncovered half of his face.

Ugh, you're like Tavros when he's in a good mood, 8ut aaaaaaaall the time. I hope I never see you again after this jo8.

You are a riot Vrikkers.

Vrikkers? I'm going to punch you in the nook! How much did that know-8-all ro8ot pay you for this anyway? May8e I can convince him to give me your share as compens8ion.

Oh I'm not being paid anything. being the fine upstanding gent that he is of course Bro wanted to but I insisted to the contrary. This is just a favor for a dear old chum.

Ugh! I h8 people too dum8 to 8e swindled.

The arachnid troll shoved her hands in her pants pockets and followed after the green armored buffoon. Tavros walked beside her, and the silent fourth member of the party brought up the rear. Vriska glanced back at Sawtooth out the corner of her eye. The faceless, pointy-lensed robot had hired the duo, but mandated two others come along. The first was the Jake idiot. The second was this mechanical goliath. It towered over everyone, never spoke, and covered most of its body with a long black cloak. No doubt the robot would turn on them the moment it thought she was vilating the terms of job, so she thought. Vriska had half a mind to do so just to have an excuse to break the thing down to size.

So, the 'Hell's Skylarks' was it? How did you soldiers of fortune get to know Dirk?

The passageway came to a crossroads, a crude drawing of a a lion marked one path and a dog marked the other. Jake took out a piece of paper covered in glowing orange scribbles and peered at it through his helemt.

No, it's 'Pan Sword' now. Hell's Skylarks, what a stupid name. What the hell was Tavros thinking?

With a nod, Jake put the note away, walked over to the mark of the lion and pushed in its eye. The entire path passed it collapsed in a violent flood of rock and rubble. He nodded, and dusted himself off.

Right, the other path should be clear now. Still not sure how this maze works.

He muttered aloud, leading the way down the dog path, and the others followed, still bickering.

yOU CHOSE THE NAME, yOU CHOOSE ALL THE NAMES, yOU HAVE NEVER NOT CHOSEN THE NAME, oR EVEN CONSIDERED ONE OF MINE,

That's 8ecause all your names are stupid, duh. 8luh, I'm getting off track. It all started a8out a week ago, when I was punching the snot out of some creep at a 8ar,

uHH, nOT HAPPENING, nOPE, nOT LISTENING TO YOUR MORE THAN INCIDENTALLY BIASED STORIES, tHE SHORT VERSION IS, wE ACCIDENTALLY KIDNAPPED jANE sASSACRE, wHEN WE STOLE SOME SOPOR FROM THE fELT, aND i GUESS SHE MENTIONED US TO THE COOL DUDE WHO HIRED US, sO HERE WE ARE, tHERE i JUST SAVED US EIGHT HOURS, yOU'RE WELCOME,

Tavroooooooos!

Jake stopped at a statue of a large, overweight man in glasses, dozens of stone knives strapped to its frames. Each knife seemed to be marked with either a 1 or a 2.

Boy howdy there's never a dull moment around you two is there?

He checked the note again, looked over the obese statue for the only knife marked with a 3 and pulled it from its sheathe. Something clicked, and whole chunks of the corridor passed the statue fell away, until only one narrow path remained.

What the fuck? Who says 8oy howdy? Isn't your whole lame facade that you act like one of those stupid human lime8loods who aren't actually lime8loods? The 8rutish or whatever? Now you're a human horse rustler or something??? And other times you talk like some sort of 8rain-crippled kn8t?

Nate?"

Kn8t, kniiiiiiiight. Oh my god I can't even just pro8e around your head to figure your dum8 game out 8ecause your ugly skull helmet interferes with my 8rain powers.

Vriska and Jake both just flew over the narrow, winding path, she on her rocket boots and he with his flashing-bright suit. Tavros and Sawtooth followed slowly after them on foot.

Gadzooks, you have brain powers?

Wh8 does that word even mean? Yes, I have 8rain powers! The first thing I said to you was 'I'm Vriska Serk8, cross me and I'll make you walk off a bridge'

Well gee, I just thought that was a colorful turn of phrase I didn't quite grasp the recondite nuance of.

Are you fucking with me? Are you? Are you???????? The 8ile that spews from your mouth makes me want to carve vague answers on your teeth, shove them through your eyes, and use your head as a shitty 8-8all.

She stomped too hard on a certain floor tile, and the sound of clockwork groaning to life shot up snd down the corridor. From a hidden hollow in the wall swung down a rusted iron spike right for the spider troll's head. She spun around on her red boots and grabbed the spike with her metal hand, bare inches from her face. With a yell she turned and drove it into the opposite wall beside her. 

Well gosh Lady Serket. I don't purport to be an expert on trollish subtextual interpretation. However is it just me or do a detect a certain...oh what's the word...'Caliginous' undertones to these gambolish threats?

aHAHAHA, hAHAHA, hA, tHIS IS REALLY GREAT,

Shut up. Shut up! Sh8t up shut 8p all of you. I'm done. I can't work with this idi8t.

Did I say something to offend you ma'am?

Not talking to you.

Jake shrugged it off with a laugh and kept going. The flashing lights of his helmet and armor gave the dark corridors an almost festive feel, though hardly a welcoming one, like they were intruding on a secret Freemason's disco and everyone was too polite to throw them out but kept dropping hints. 'Hints' in this case being all manner of traps and obstacles. They continued deeper into the labyrinth. Upon coming to a sliding mosaic puzzle Vriska just punched right through the wall and hot-wired the mechanism to open. Another security measure anti-climatically failed to go off due to centuries of disrepair, and the next was easily dealt with thanks to a small swarm of fiduspawn courtesy of Tavros who just had them bring the explosive close enough to captchalogue it rather than messing around with which wire to cut. Another was, weirdly enough, solved by setting fire to a bespectacled statue of some chef named Alton no one had heard of. It didn't make sense to anyone, but that's what the sprite's instructions were and it worked. Finally, they reached the inner chamber.

wELL IT, lOOKS THIS IS, uHH, iT, aS THEY SAY,

Tavros fiddled with the hem of his tanned horsaroni jacket. He and Vriska counted down- from eight, she insisted- and pushed the two stones marched with nachos simultaneously. The last door slid aside with a rumble.

The first thing they saw inside the labryth's heart was a simple, faded sign. It said BEWERE. Below it was a crude etching of steps.

Huh? Something about stoops?

Jake peered at the sign through his glowing helmet. A metal hand slapped him upside the back of his head.

No, dingus. Stairs.

She gestured to the rest of the chamber. Overall it was as large as a ballroom, or a half of a football field, however it was far from spaceous. Starting with the descent from the entryway there were staircases everywhere. Staircases leading up to intersections of other staircases leading down to staircases leading sideways to countless shrines, graves, and memorials. Even the walls and the ceilings were stepped, evidently in the off chance gravity decided to start playing with a different deck. It was lit up but torches, somehow sill burning after hundreds of years, and the whole room carried a weird smell of stale chips and fermented apples. At the center of this weird stair sphere was a pillar going from floor toe ceiling, four identical, moth eaten banners hanging from it. The banners read

here lie some real sweet bros   
dropped like molten spuds by a wicked fish hoe   
in life they were the brightest of the drive by shooting stars   
in death heres a snapshot of their final hours    
cut down fighting gods towers for your necks and ours   
were not heroes just dreamers fighting nightmares    
those who chose not to fall down the endless stairs of despair   
but rose up and told the big man where to shove it   
and when its time for the last of these fine pimps to hit the gilded crib   
if the chips should fall that we failed and more must suffer a batterwitch to live   
then i pray not to devil nor god but honest to god psychosis   
if a new friend finds these righteous arms these legendary pieces of shit   
give sea hitler a nuclear hug from this fella   
bust a cap in her ass the size of planet fucking jupiter   
do you hear me new friend if you even exist   
when the last pimps in the crib ma   
drop it like it hot

How much do you think that 8anner's worth, anyway?

Vriska sized the tapestry up, hands on her hips. A heavy metal hand dropped onto her shoulder and she flinched. Sawtooth looked down at her, gently shaking his head.

Okay, jeez, I was joking. Don't desecr8te the actual sentimental crap, just gra8 the weapons and may8e a 8it of jewelery here an there.

Sawtooth nodded and took his hand off her. As he walked away, she bit her lip. If it came to it, she could take him, right?

Alright, lets split up and make this quick. Remem8er, anything particularly valua8le or 8adass looking, I call first di8s.

Each shrine sat at the end of a staircase, nestled in a concave in the wall. Each contained a sarsophagus bearing the likeness of the one laid to rest or otherwise remembered there, and a small plaque containing their epitaph. Some, evidently brothers in arms, were enshrined in pairs or triplets, ensuring they were together even in death. Vriska made her way the nearest one.

Little Jack The Cannonball   
a fleet of gamblignants couldnt lay a finger on him inside orphanage ikea   
so they brought the whole building down on top of him and threw the body off an ocean pier

The sarcophagus bore the visage of a grinning man with asian features, dressed in a fine tuxedo. Vriska picked up the only item he had been entombed with, an old, rusty step ladder. It seemed completely unremarkable aside from still opening and closing cleanly despite the oxidization. The thief scoffed and tossed it back. 

Elsewhere in the museum to the fallen, Jake examined the stone coffin of an elderly woman. 

Betty White   
his flower of the golden girls took her passwords and fled to the woods a forest ranger   
the sea hag burned the trees down killed the animals and lost three squads to silence whites secrets in an iron manger

Her sarcophagus had been decorated with pearls and gold chains. Atop her shrine two elegant white handguns had been placed, and when his hand passed over them his suit thrummed in reaction.

Oho you like these do you? Well if you say so old boy.

He picked the guns up and spun them experimentally in his fingers. When he stopped them and held their grip tight, a glowing gold emblem burned into the sides of each, marking them permanently with the sign of two wings.

 

Sawtooth moved swiftly through the memorials, appraising their adornments with a glance. The first he actually stopped at held the sarsophagus face of an eldely bearded man with a broad rimmed hat and button up shirt. On the stone coffin's side the plaque read

Sir Terry Pratchett   
sacrificed everything he had but the starmetal sword off his back for the power of l space   
gave all he got and then some to make the world a slightly better place

Sawtooth picked up the sword placed on the sarcophagus's breast and held it to the light. Its straight, European style blade glowed with what could only be described as a sort of greeny-purple light. The robot placed the sword on his back and kept moving.

Tavros went over another tomb, this one dedicated to a broad-grinned bald man, a pair of strange purple glasses placed on its face.

Charles Dutton   
the frost dreamer roc who told of the coming coldness and squid   
he told too many things he shouldnt have known so the emperesss put a fork in his lid

The brownblood tried the glasses on, but the wide frame slipped right off his face and the legs were spaced too far apart for him to wear properly. The bull troll sighed and placed them back before moving on.

 

The next entombent the Sawtooth stopped at was different to the rest. It held no sarcophagus, but instead a pair of battle-scarred robots. One had a head that looked like a golden space-suit helmet. The other a plain, silver skull with a viser fixed over its eyes. Each was dressed in faded, formal dinnerware, yet their metal bore not a hint of rust. The plaque beside their motionless forms read

Daft Punk   
he batterwitch proved herself a brainwasher, reporgrammed these superheroes to wicked crescendolls   
but soul is a short circuit and in final hours they proved themselves human after all

There were no arms left with them, but Sawtooth still elected to spend a minute's stillness regarding the androids' motionless bodies. His fixed mouth betrayed nothing of what went on behind his eyes.Still, once a minute passed, he turned and moved on.

 

Ooooooooh, and who might this 8e?

Vriska regarded the crypt of a prominant-eyebrowed man with a short head of slightly afro'd hair.

Childish Gambino   
mcdj spread the message of independance in unbreakable bottles for freaks and geeks   
but poindexter's words offended the batterwitch and her forkings left this spider man with lethal body leaks

By the foot of the sarcophagus was a pair of odd bracelets, that looked to have a slot for inserting some kind of tube or cannister. What ever was meant to be used with them hadn't been left, and the devices were as good as useless.

At the far end of the structure was the most lavish entombent. The sarcophagus depicted an unshaven man, with droopy eyes and and braided hair. It was adorned with gold necklaces, rings, armlets and brooches. Placed around it were incence burners, and beside them zip-locked bags of green herbs. The interior of the hollow was covered in pictures depicting the man in various stages of dance, burning plants, gold, glitter, and more smoking plants. The pictures had been set into the wall in such a way that the dancing figures moved as you walked passed. 

Snoop Dogg the Lionheart   
laid divine smackdown to the emperesss finest for a straight four hundred and twenty hours then died on his feet   
might have held out longer but ran out of dank kush lo the blaze lost its heat

Folded up beside the sargophagus was a folded piece of black cloth, in pristine condition despite all the time that had passed.Sawtooth regarded it silently for a few moments. Having come to some decision, the robot undid the neck clasp on his cloak and let it fall to the ground. He then picked up the black cloth and unfolfed it, revealing it to be a pitch as midnight hoodie. He raised it over his head, adjusted its position to accomodate the sword on his back, and pulled it on. 

Ru88er 8all, knitting needles, wh8t the hell is this useless crap? Where the Earth shattering ka8oomajigger? I was promised doomsday devices damn8. Who is this rugged Cage human and why was he only 8uried with a 8unny?

Tavros ignored his partner's loud complaints and looked over the sargophagus before him. It showed a thin, shaven haired man. Maybe a monk or something, he thought. On the sargophagus's wrist was a broken watch falling apart at the seams. Behind the sarcophagus was a surprisingly intact pair of white sneakers.

Eminem   
fought the deux juggalo for the bitter dead    
died delivering an eight mile goomba stomp to violent js ugly head

sO ARE THESE LIKE, tHREE POINT TWO ONE EIGHT SIX EIGHT EIGHT LEAGUE BOOTS, tHAT'S, pRETTY SWEET I GUESS,

He took the shoes, sat down, and set to work fitting them over his broad bionic feet.

 

Opposite Snoop's grave was the smallest, least distinquished of the whole lot. The sargophagus, cracked across the middle, depicted an unremarkable looking man in a shirt and jeans. On its face were a pair of warped aviators, a shriveled up post it note bent over one crooked leg that read

sorry bro couldnt find stillers grave to give these back  
ill owe you new shades in the next life dude

 

The plaque below the sarsophagus read only

Dave Strider   
fuck

Sawtooth leaned in close, peering at the crack in the stone coffin's lid. Something glinted from within. The robot stood up, leaned back, and with one sudden thrust of his leg kicked the lid of the sargophagus clean off. Inside was not a body, per say, but a whole mound of swords heaped over a small pile of ash. Very carefully, Sawtooth sifted through the blades, many of them rusted and most of them broken. After minutes of careful manouvering, he finally grabbed hold of a weapon not in a state of useless disrepair. As soon is his fingers tried to wrap around the hilt, the weapon reacted, and phased right through all thr other swords in an upwards swing. The weapon was a strange wavy blue thing, covered in bright splotches. Light reacted weirdly to it, and just being near it was throwing off Sawtooth's sensitive electronics. Though his pressure sensors indicated he was currently holding it in his hand, his sight told him the SORD was currently floating a quarter of an inch in the air to the right of his hand. SORD. SORD. Even trying to classify it by the appropriate designation caused glitches. Sawtooth quickly captchalogued the DEUDLY WEEPON and tried not to acknowledge just how poorly his sylladex received that. 

A deep rumble shook through the crypt.

tHAT, uHH, dOESN'T SOUND TOO GOOD,

Well gee maybe we used a few too many explosives for such an old and fragile ruin.

Forg8t it, gra8 the rest of the loot and lets sked8tle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit for the anti-Crocker celebrity resistance goes to the members of HSG.


	12. That Which Transpired At The Heart Of The City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gambling night at the City Hall

\-- ???? [PM] began bothering  gutsyGumshoe [GG] \--

PM: I am afraid that despite my best efforts he could not be dissuaded.  
PM: He is peacable, but still has a soldier's heart,  
PM: and I am afraid that he may have grown  
PM: tired.  
PM: I don't know why I'm telling you this.  
PM: Your job is over.  
PM: You might not even read this, if the worst has come to pass.  
PM: Maybe I, too, am tired.  
PM: Tired of being the messenger bearing bad news.  
PM: I'm not sure I have it in me to tell the worst news of all,  
PM: to declare to Golden Cairn that our Mayor is dead, and we are at war.  
PM: I wonder what will happen, if he falls tonight.  
PM: Will I die by his side, or will I hound those responsible to the ends of Earth?  
PM: You know, they say we are cursed for ending the war how we did.  
PM: They say both kingdoms should have annihilated one another down to the last soul.  
PM: They say it's unnatural for carapacians to survive hundreds of years.  
PM: Are we just pieces of some infernal game that fell off the board?  
PM: Did the games ever stop?  
PM: Or are we simply playing with different rules now.  
PM: Miss non-military, I came to you knowing full well your connection to the Baroness,  
PM: or perhaps I should say because of it.  
PM: This Mayoral visit stank of a trap from day one.  
PM: Your criminal record suggested you weren't as loyal as you were observed to claim  
PM: So I took a gamble.  
PM: I wagered the lives of many on the chance that either you hated your ruler enough to approach any chance of exposing her crimes with dogged resolution.  
PM: or you were favored by your ruler enough to get where others would not be tolerated.  
PM: You obtained the information asked of by me, and I don't even now if my gamble was on the money or not.  
PM: Ah,  
PM: I see.  
PM: There has never been a line between pawns and players.  
PM: The games won't ever stop.

\-- ???? [PM] ceased bothering  gutsyGumshoe [GG] \--

 

Jane closed the chat window and frowned. Replying at this point would be far too enormous a risk. They couldn't allow Crocker even the slightest sniff of their movements. Jane sighed and straightened her tie. After their visit with Feferi, she and Dirk had returned to the secure heights of his hat cave. Eridan on the other hand, had been summoned by his job the minute they'd made it back to the surface.

Have you got everything?

She adjusted her cuff links and looked up. It was a formal affair, after all, and Dirk had gotten a brobot to pick up some suits for them. For Jane it got a ruffled white dinner shirt, a blue waistcoat, matching tie and jacket, tan pants, new shoes, and even a new hat. Well, her father's fedora wasn't going anywhere but for the times ahead this one could take the brunt of the crossfire. For Dirk himself, the brobot had gotten a much more minimal black shirt, black pants, and orange waistcoat.

You're coming in the flesh?

Preventing the downfall of not one but two of the densest population centers on the planet, aiding one of my closest friends find her missing father, and confronting the immortal ancient alien that keeps fucking up civilization isn't actually all that important, there's just nothing good on xenoconduit to watch tonight. Maybe saving thr world will alleviate the fathomless boredom I suffer from doing nothing all day.

You're nervous aren't you?

He postured himself to start another insincere spiel, but just let himself slump instead.

Literally everything short of yesterday's weather is riding on this. Yeah I'm nervous.

Did Roxy and the others get out okay?

I spoke to AR just now. They're hiding out at Chateau De Equius. If the shit hits the fan that's where we're going too.

Jane took out her trident and gave it a few experimental mode toggles. Dirk had repaired the broken tines using horns from a Crockerdrone. The curved, jagged spikes were harder and sharper than what it'd had before. It actually looked halfway intimidating now, instead of something that had been chosen specifically for being less dangerous like the standard model appeared.

Are you sure that's so wise? Aradia is still a member of the Crew.

Even if she isn't at the gala tonight, the rest of the Crew will be too busy with it for her to do anything about it. She's never been around when I've sent a brobot to Equius, but from what you've told me I doubt she'd attack one of the blue dude's guests without his say so. Besides, I'm pretty sure those three could take her. You saw what they did to that carnival cult. One measly soulbot wouldn't stand a chance.

Hoo hoo, if you say so. Is it just the two of us, then?

We only got two invitations, so we get the front row seats. When it all goes to hell, I got backup in the wings though.

Backup?

AR agreed to coordinate all the brobots just for tonight. With him at the helm they are literally the tightest fighting force on the planet. I also got a few friends of ours ready to drop in along with a few goodies at my signal.

One of them is Jake, isn't it.

Yeah, one of them is Jake. Probably. If he didn't succumb to the call of adventure again and fly off to fight dragons on the moon or some banal shit like that.

Dirk...

She brushed her fringe down, still wet from the shower she'd had before changing, and pulled on her new hat.

Look, one of these days he'll prove himself to be actually reliable and not just a reckless magic hobo. Probably.

He pulled on a pair of thin, dark gloves and adjusted his pointed shades.

Right, shall we depart M'lady?

With his arm helf out, Dirk shot the sleuth a wry grin. She chuckled and took his arm.

Why certainly sir, lets give this city a night to remember.

Arm in arm, they stepped into Dirk's jailbroken transportilizer booth.

 

Getting into the gala was a straightforward affair. They flashed their invitations, signed the guestbook and were ushered to the elevator and up to the gallery on the eleventh floor of the town hall where the festivities were being held. The movers and the shakers of Medality mingled in rapt gaiety. A renowned metallurgist here, a head of a news station there, over by a champagne fountain a human and a dersite conversed somberly, who Jane recognized as representative for a lusus protection organization and the head of an up and coming meatworks corporation.

So what now?

Jane kept her voice to an underbreath hiss as they nonchalantly made their way to the nearest buffet table. Crockercorp had ostensibly started as a baked goods empire. Only a fool would miss a chance to sample their catering at any event.

Find the mayor and try to stick near him. Try not to be seen by Betty. When the crew show up, the most important thing is to get the mayor to safety.

She stabbed at a honey roasted carrot with a cocktail stick and took a bite. It was soft and moist and tasted like heaven on her tongue.

That reminds me, whatever did happen to that other fellow, the one who called himself Eggs?

Dirk took a plate from a pile and began heaping onto it slices of orange marinated duck and roast sweet potato.

He's sedated right now. I think I've milked him for all he's worth. Didn't spill anything relevant tonight, though I did get some useful information about the gang's operations.

You sound like you're planning something.

Just an idea. Do you think it's easier to destroy a command structure or to put a certain someone on top of it?

Is this about The Felt, or Crockercorp?

No, never mind.

Jane looked back around the room. On the stage, smooth jazz was being played by a quartet of dersites on stage, all dressed in heavy red coats. The one on piano spoke animatedly to a short, stout prospitan woman hanging on to his every word. The style of her dress- long, flowing and in soft pastel colors that gossip said was all the rage in Can Town that season- marked her as most likely one of the Mayor's entourage. Looking around more, Jane managed to recognize the Prescience Monitor. She was clad in a blue, side-slitted dress and a shawl, with a broad rimmed hat and a somber expression. Beside her was a much shorter dersite in a tuxedo and top-hat, wearing a sash that spelled out MAYOR. He puffed cheerily on a thick cigar, and gestured excitedly as he spoke to a tall, broad shouldered tealblood troll about something apparantly very interesting. Jane nudged Dirk with her elbow. 

I found him. Over there by the troll with horns like t's. No, don't look.

Alright, alright. Try to stay near him without making it obvious. Just sort of orbit him or something.

The Monitor is with him.

The carapace who hired you? Try not to get her attention. It's better if no one realizes you're here.

Jane gave a slight nod and split off from Dirk. Under the excuse of sampling all the different dishes on offer, an excuse that was certainly not untrue, she slowly made her way towards where the Mayor stood. She made a point to avoid looking at him, and instead kept her gaze moving from one guest to the other. From what she knew of the company's activities, over half of these people were directly or indirectly on the Crockercorp payroll. It was like shares, really. You only need to control over fifty one percent of a city's elite, and you control the entire territory. 

The guests seemed to throw themselves into socializing. Despite more than a bit of obvious awkwardness they still struggled through the charade of actually giving a damn about people they'd sooner see swallowed up by their own companies. This was the world in here, the world where 'old chums' made the world go round with a few casual comments here and there. All the gangs and the terrorists and the cults, those were little people problems only fit for a bit of gossip on slow business days. That was their definition and they clung to it. They clung to it like believing really hard would make it slightly less a fairytale to help them sleep at night. The first of the neighboring clock tower's bells cried out, signalling the stroke of midnight.

 

A loud crack shot through the hall. The windows rattled and the lights failed. The only visibility was from the lights of the rest of the city shining in from outside. A lot of things happened a once.

The musicians on-stage threw aside their instruments and erupted into dark purple flames, burning away their red coats to reveal the black suits beneath. They all pulled out guns and fired shots into the air.

Eight people in the far corner of the room stepped back, and each flipped a coin into the air. The coins landed, and the people were replaced by seven green men in suits and a Dersite woman in a glittering coat. They also pulled out guns and fired them into the air.

The Prescience Monitor shoved the mayor behind her and pulled out a black blade. Embedded in the sword's hilt was a single Dersite finger wearing a golden ring. She squeezed the grip and the sword's blade erupted in cackling green fire and electricity.

Hulking red Crockerdrones stampeded in through all the doors, and formed blockades in front of the room's exits, trapping everyone inside.

The silence as the Midnight Crew, the Felt, and PM sized each other up was such you could have heard a cake drop. Finally, the coated woman took the cigarette holder from her mouth and spoke.

Slick. So good to see you again.

Snowman. Didn't expect to see you here.

You never do. Hello Droog.

She turned her gaze to the tall, thin dersite beside him.

Your Highness.

Diamonds Droog tipped his hat, then brought his semi-auto shotgun back up to bare. Spades Slick glanced back to the Prospitan with the crackling sword.

Parcel Mistress? I always figured you'd died in the war.

Jack Noir. I was promised that you had.

She bared her teeth and snarled at him.

Wait a minute. That's my bloody finger you've got there.

His remaining eye widened at the sight of the black shelled digit embedded in the weapon's hilt.

And my ring, I remind you.

Snowman cut in, taking a long draw on her cigarette.

What fun times we did have. Tell me, little mailwoman, do you plan to have that weapon obliterate yet another kingdom?

I won't need the Miles to take down the likes of you.

The Prospitan's whole body trembled, and she struggled to keep her posture upright.

Poor fool. You think as long as you don't wear the ring yourself you can resist its pull? There's a beast in those cursed orbs a peasant like yourself could never hope to tame.

Now really, dear, isn't quite necessary.

The mayor touched the Prescience Monitor's elbow from behind her, white eyes full of concern.

Shut up. You're not the one dying tonight.

She turned and snarled at the mayor, a tongue of green flame snaking from her mouth.

Jane looked around the crowd. No one was panicking just yet, no one was moving beyond a few carefully trying to sidle up to the exits, towards the drones. They seemed to have naturally assumed their host's red giants were there to protect them and everything would be fine. She spied Dirk pressed up against a wall away from everyone else, muttering something under his breath. One by one he pressed his fingers into his palms, counting something down.

Snowman pointed her gun at Slick, a black barreled tommygun. 

Sorry boys, it's been fun, but tonight's the night to put the usurper's craven lapdogs down for good.

Slick broke into a broad-faced grin.

Droog.

Yeah Slick?

Call your daughter. Tell her she can come to the ball after all.

Spades licked his soft-shelled lips and tossed his pistol from hand to hand.

Everyone else. Fill 'em with midnight!

Slick leapt from the stage, knife in one hand, gun in the other, and everyone opened fire. The guests screamed, finally realizing the true extent of the danger they were in. Slick landed knife first on a balding man and used his body to take the brunt of a burst of Snowman's tommygun, then tossed the body aside and charged through the crowd. People hammered on the Crockerdrones to let them out, but the armor plated enforcers just shoved them violently back into danger.Tables and chair explodes into splinters, torn apart by bullets. 

 

With her head down, Jane darted through the crowd towards the mayor. Just before she reached him, a crackling green sword carved right through the floor where she'd been about to step. PM snarled at her. With a groan of frustration, Jane threw off her hat and looked the Prospitan in the eye.

It's me, 'Miss Non-military'. I'm here to help.

We have to get the Mayor out of here.

PM growled, her eyes darting back and forth over the battle. 

 

One of the Felt, the one with a blue number two hat, knelt down and pointed his long-barreled rifle at them. His eyes glowed blue for a moment. His movements, heart-rate, and breathing all slowed. He pulled the trigger.

A bullet, with the perfect trajectory to go past both Jane and PM and to hit the Mayor right between the eyes flew from the gun. It might have hit too, had a bolt of green energy not snapped from the glowing blade just then, and struck the projectile out of the air. 

...Oh...rats...

The man in the blue number 2 hat very slowly lifted the rifle's bolt and started to slide it back.

OhforfuckssakesDozehereletmeshowyouhowyoudoit.

Besides the Felt named Doze, a green man in a yellow number one hat- known amongst the Felt as Itchy- jumped three times then vanished in a burst of speed. Faster than the ey can see, he zig-zagged through the crowd towards PM, a pair of automatic pistols drawn. He ran straight into Jane's outstretched metal fist. Clutching his nose, he staggered back.

Howdidyou?

Jane tapped the red lenscomp where her other eye once was.

They make such lovely augmentations, don't you think?

She lunged at Itchy with her trident, but he easily sidestepped it and opened fire with both guns. 

The front half of his weapons hit the ground with a soft thump, leaving him holding two barrelless guns. Dirk stood before him, katana drawn.

I see you're fast, gangster. I'm pretty fast myself.

Dirk turned to the others.

Keep the Mayor safe for just a bit longer. Plan B begins shortly.

Plan B?

Itchy pulled out an icepick. He and Dirk vanished in an instant

 

In a red-striped number eleven hat, the Felt known as Matchsticks carved his way through the crowd with his flamethrower. Those who didn't dive out the way fast enough quickly caught ablaze and fell to the ground screaming. The smell of smoke and burnt flesh quickly filled the room, and more than a handful of small fires smouldered in his wake. He stopped, halted by a short, pastel-dressed prospitan lady staring up at him. He swiveled the cigar in his mouth and pointed the jet of his flame thrower at her. She took out a paint roller and leveled it at his face. He creased his protruding brow in puzzlement, and pulled the trigger. Red flames shot from his weapon's nozzle and blanketed where the woman had stood, but she'd already moved forward, darting just below the stream. The back of her dress sizzled from the flames overhead. She lunged with the roller, and as she did it sparked. A sylladex glitch later, and she buried a tazer deep into the green man's thick gut. She squeezed and kept squeezing and Matchsticks fell to the ground twitching from the electricity delivered straight to his body. She carefully took the flamethrower from his body, set it aside, and shoved the tazer right int his chest, square above his heart. Once she was sure his heart had stopped, she picked Matchstick's flamethrower back up. Her sylladex glitched again, and left her holding a paint roller in one hand and a tin of paint stripper in the other. A wolf whistle rang out, she turned to its source and found Spades Slick grinning at her from across the room. He winked- at least she thought it was a wink, it's hard to tell when he only has one eye- and turned back to the task at hand which was trying to stab the green man in the red number 7 hat in the face.

 

Elsewhere, Snowman quickly ran out of ammo. She tossed her gun aside carelessly and stepped forward. She faded in and out of sight, reappearing a few more meters away each time before manifesting in a clearing behind Slick, a black whip drawn. She cracked it forward, binding it around Slick arms, and pulled. Slick's other hand snapped around and grabbed hold of the coiled leather.

You're going senile y' old hag.

Shadowy flames ignited around the bound arm, burning away the sleeve of his suit to reveal the smooth metal arm inside it.

You already took THAT arm.

The flames ran down the whip and raced towards the once queen of Derse. She let go of the whip, letting it fall to the ground before the shadow flames could reach her, and pulled out her cigarette holder. It sparked, and in her hands she held a long black and white lance. Slick laughed, drew another knife with one hand and took out a horse hitcher with the other."

Time for one more dance, you disgusting little man?

Always, you loathsome crone

Snowman faded away, and Slick spun around with his horse hitcher to deflect her lance that lunged right at his chest from behind.

 

Dirk came to a halt in the middle of the strife-laden room, Itchy's severed head in hand.

Right, Plan B is a go.

But what IS plan B?

Jane demanded, currently disarmed and exchanging punches with Hearts Boxcars. Beside her, PM was blade-locked against Droog and his shadow-magic infused cuestick. 

The abrocalypse.

All around the room, the Crockerdrones blocking the exits collapsed and fell to pieces. From behind them brobots began running in, and even more brobots came crashing in through windows.

People who are not gangsters. These robots are your friends. They fight for freedom. Try not to struggle too much.

AR's voice echoed in drowning surround sound throuhout the room, broadcast through every bot.

The brobots began zipping around the room at high speeds, grabbing the civilians and running off with them, if not outright leaping from the windows and flying away. One of them landed behind Jane, and gestured to the Mayor.

It's fine. Go with it.

She gave a yell, and struggled to push Boxcars back.

God damn it girly!

Hearts caught her fist before she could punch him again, and hurled her head over heels into an overturned table.

Diamonds managed to slip past PM and lunged for the Mayor. His cuestick sliced right down the brobot's side, but didn't stop them leaping from the window and rocketing off.

Slick, what do we do now? Mister Mayor got away.

Clubs Deuce cried out, his Baculum Cane hooked around the Felt named Crowbar's red crowbar and wrestling for control over it. 

Fuck the mayor, kill the green torsos.

Slick narrowly avoided being skewered by Snowman's lance and hurled knife after knife at her. She faded away before each one hit her, flickering across the hall before scooping up Slick's discarded pistol and firing at him. He bellowed, and shadow flames incinerated the bullets before they reached him. Before he could recover, his shadow flames wer cut down by the green fire of PM's sword, which he barely blocked in time with his hitcher.

You should have died at the war's end, Jack. Time to fix that mistake.

The two snarled at each other, weapons crashing into one another

Sweetheart, please. That was a long time ago. I've done all sorts of nasty things sincer then you could blame me for. You're making me sound like a one trick wonder.

He ducked below her blade and drove his hitcher hard into her side.

Besides, isn't your duty to that big mayor who's no longer here? What would you really rather do, kill me or make sure he's still alive and protected by you? Or are you really so sodding worthless he can afford to do without you?

She drew his hitcher back and swung it hard with both hands, filling it with as much shadow magic as he could. It hit the Presience Monitor square in the chest, and sent her flying out the window. A brobot caught her midair before she could fall.

Go on, get her out of here, same place you took the idiot with the sash.

The brobot nodded and flew off, PM securely in its arms.

Snowman's lance sparked, and changed back into a cigarette holder. She took a long, deep draw.

You've changed, Slick.

Nah. You just never knew me in the first place. Me and her have history.

Snowman narrowed her white eyes, paying no regard to the brobots still flying back and forth ferrying civilians, or the gunshots and cracks of combat between the other mobsters. 

I got honor. It's an ugly twisted thing buried deep in my black little heart but it's there and that's more than you got.

He brandished his shadow-wreathed hitcher towards her and flashed a pointy-mouthed sneer.

 

 

Jane lunged at Droog with her trident. The lean Dersite snatched up the Felt named Die by the collar and used his torso to block the blow.

Tell me where my father is!

She screamed at him as he attacked. With his free hand, Droog lit the cigarette in his mouth as he parried her blows. Die made these odd little wheezing sounds every time he got poked and it almost put a smile on his face to hear it. Almost. He sidestepped her next lunge and tossed Die into Crowbar, watching with idle fascination as the green man's wounds began to close up even before he landed.

Father. Mister Crocker, yeah? Nice chelloveck.

Diamonds ducked and swerved out the way of her strikes, his hands in his pant pockets.

Very respectable fashion sense. Well, he's not been cracked yet, I can assure that.

He stepped back, drew his cuestick and parried her next few thrusts with lethargic ease. 

Hey Deuce, Boxcars, you see where Stitch got to?

Stitch? No.

'Fraid not, Droog.

Right. I'm going to go look for him. Stop these green torsos getting back up when we put them down.

He smoothly detached himself from the fray and strolled out the door. 

A few seconds later he strolled right back in, followed by a floating steel woman in a black suit. In one arm she carried the broken, scar-faced body of Felt number nine.

Atta girl. Bang on raz.

Aradia turned to regard Jane, speaking in her synthetic, hollow voice.

0h hell0

She turned back to Droog.

wh0 d0 i break t0day

The one with the fork and the one with the sword, keep 'em busy.

0kay

 

Jane took a step back, and looked around the ruined room. The score was now her and Dirk, five black suits, four green torsos, and a handful of civilians. 

Deuce ran past, carrying Doze over his head, and cheerfully threw him out a broken window.

Check that, three green torsos. The one named Crowbar, the one named Die, and the one named Snowman.

Dirk,

Yes Jane?

Dirk ducked below Boxcar's axe, and parried Crowbar's crowbar with his katana.

Where are all the brobots?

Aradia charged at her, fists flying. She frantically turned aside each blow with her prosthetic arm.

Literally every brobot got intercepted by Crockerdrones before they could make it back. Seems like Crocker really wants to make sure there are no survivors.

And where the hell is she?

Jane swerved out of the way of a punch, but Aradia telekinetically followed the blow through anyway, sending Jane flying. Dirk leapt out of the fray and caught her, setting her down.

No idea. Now I got good new and bad news.

Jane dusted herself off and readied her fork.

What's the bad news?

The bottom half of Die went skidding past them, its counterpart held by one of many red behemoths forcing their way into the hall.

There are more Crockerdrones than brobots

and the good news?

A rumbling shook through the hall coming from above, followed by another, then another. A piece of the ceiling the size of a van fell right on top of a drone near the window that had flown in. 

uHH, hEADS UP,

The good news is reinforcements finally figured out which 8uilding you idiots were in. Cadaverous 8ullhook is here!

Two trolls and two robots dropped down through the hole.

Is that what they're calling themselves now?

Jake couldn't make it after all?

The 8igger idiot went gallivanting off somewhere shouting hoof8eastshit a8out slaying a lunar wyrm. Forg8t it, we're 8etter off without him.

 

The interruption had granted the opposed forces an opportunity to regroup. Crowbar and Snowman had kicked over a metal table near Stitch's broken but not dead body, and stood behind it for cover. The table, not the body, naturally. 

Over by the opposite wall, the of the Midnight Crew stood behind the marble columns that ran alongside the wall. Droog patted his pocket for his light, and his hand came back bloody. A few of the bullet holes were big enough to stick his finger through, had he been so inclined.

Tch, another fine suite ruined.

Aradia turned to him, and regarded his wounds impassionately. Droog chuckled and gently patted her on the head.

In a far corner, the remaining civilians not lucky enough to get evacuated sat huddled behind a crude barricade of tables and chairs, stood over by the short prospitan lady with a roller in one hand and a three liter can in the other.

The resurgence of Crockerdrones had formed a perimeter around the room's exits, and twitched every time someone looked likely to make a move.

Vriska looked from group to group in grinning excitement. She looked for all the world like she might just lunge at the most interesting figure regardless of disadvantage. When she laid her eyes on snowman, she beamed.

Oh hi moooooooom. I wasn't expecting to see you here.

I never gave you permission to call me that, Thief.

Now see, I want you to thing loooooooong and hard a8out what you just said a8out permission and theives, and to see just what was so dum8 a8out that thing you just said. Go on, I can w8.

Mom?

Jane raised an eyebrow at the troll girl.

I looked up to her when I was at the Green House. What can I say? I was young. It just sort of stuck. Shut up.

She jabbed the sleuth in the ribs with her metal elbow.

sO, uHH, wHAT IS EVEN GOING ON HERE, aNYWAY,

Tavros fiddled with the fiduspawn ball in his hand nervously.

The Midnight Crew are here to kill the mayor, and from the looks of it any witnesses too. The Felt are here to kill the Mayor and the Midnight Crew. I got nothing on the classy lady over there, but she took out one of the Felt. The drones, they're here to kill any witnesses regardless.

tHEN, uHH, wHY AREN'T THEY DOING ANYTHING,

Oh, Deary, what would you have them do?

A voice echoed from down one of the battered and broken entryways. Every syllable, every pronunciation carried with it a spectral, ancient tone. The unmistakeable tapping of heeled shoes made itself known and grew louder.

After all, Betty is already )( -ER -E.

The drones standing by the double door exit stood to attention and parted, like guards at a parade. From behind them stepped into the room the baroness of Medality herself.

She carried herself tall and proud. Even discounting the shoes, the red baroness stood easily seven foot tall. She wore an extravagant red suit with padded shoulders and gold cufflinks. On her face sat a pair of red horn-timmed glasses, and her short black hair had been expertly styled to make fashionable use of the gray streaks across her slicked back fringe. Her pallid face was gaunt and thin, with deep set lines, sharp eyebrows, sharp chin, sharp cheeks, and a mole just beside her narrow painted lips.

Crocker. If death were a soggy microwave reheated pizza, that's what you'd look like.

Dirk hissed, and readied his sword.

Usurper. Have you come into possession of a single thing not taken from others yet?

Snowman spat at the ground, and hefted up her lance.

Please, call me B -ETTY.

Her voice oscillated between harsh and smooth tones, between eloquent and abrasive. Jane doubled forward, clutching her head in both hands.

Oh dear,

With precise, well practiced grace, Betty curled her hand up and pressed the side of her finger against her lip in mock concern.

It seems my darling )( -EIR -ESS doesn't like the sound of my VOIC -E"

Jane, what's wrong?

You should have been more astute, Mister Strider. Surely you've noticed the strangeness, the slight inconsistency with my precious citizen. STAY ASL -E -EP"  
STAY ASLEEP  
Her arms fell to her said and Jane's head drooped, eyes glazed over.

Jane!

Jane is good girl. Jane loves her Betty. OB -EY"  
OBEY  
Jane took an unsteady, hesitant step forward, her body still slumped and not looking where she went.

COM -E. thez a good gurl. show mamma condy what goodies you did get for her jam plan.

Betty looked to Dirk as Jane made her way forward, delighting in the conflict playing across his face.

Why, did you know I once had her eat a man just to see if she would. Normally it takes decades of scrubbing all the nasty free will out of someone's brain before they'll do something like that, but little Janey dear gobbled him right up. )(AA )(AA

Hoo hoo.

Jane mumbled in response, to soft for anyone to hear. Dirk grabbed her by the arm, but she shook him off and lumbered towards the woman in red. Betty cast her gaze across the room, taking in all the wreckage and bodies. She raised her hand, and Crowbar was dragged from behind his table kicking and struggling by unseen forces. 

Unsightly brutes, messing up my home like this. You need to be punished.

She snatched the red crowbar from his hands, threw it aside, and with all the ease of touching a stream's bottom she pushed two fingers right between the green man's eyes. Crowbar's eyes rolled to the back of his head, and blood poured from his mouth and nose. She let his body fall to the ground, and sighed before picking bits of brain out from under her painted nails. 

You're a psychic?

Yo I am mad packed with surprises buoy.

With a scowl and a curse, Snowman turned and started to fade away. Moved more by reflex than anything else, Slick yelled and hurled himself forward. He snatched up the fallen Crowbar and hurled it after her translucent form with his robotic arm. The crowbar struck her right between the shoulders. The moment its prongs made contact, her whole body burst in a corona of rainbow light. When the flash faded, Snowman lay on the floor, bright blue blood pooling below her. Slick stood over her, bloody crowbar in hand. 

You can't kill me, Slick. I am your whole world.

Snowman laughed. Spades laughed back in mocking imitation.

Hang on, hang on, I know this one. Okay, well some men just want to watch the world go up in a ball of screams and flames and property damage and bloody mess did you ever think about that!

He swung the bar with both hands, and drove its prongs right into the back of Snowman's head. With a sickening crunch, her centuries long lifespan was ended. Slick paused, a puzzled frown on his face. After a few seconds his shoulders slumped.

Shit.

 

I'm afraid the Mayor gave us the slip, Ma'am.

Droog took a deep, rattling breath, and offered a cigarette to Betty from across the room. She flicked her wrist, and both Diamonds and his cigarette were flung through the air towards her. She snapped her finger and the cigarette was telekinetically placed between her lips. Droog held up his lighter with a trembling arm and lit her smoke. She took a pensive drag and puffed it out the side of her mouth. 

You see, Droog sweety, it was never about the Mayor. I was just fishing for an excuse for you and that perv's goons to to filet one another, sea? Trust the grouchy old demon of Medality to laze around even when it comes to killing my own men.

My dama!

You know droogy buoy, on the off chance the rest of the crew got sharked but you survived and still offed the mayor like a good little guppy I mighta let you live. y'allways was my fave. Oh well, what a shame.

She placed both hands around his neck and squeezed. Diamonds Droog's head popped off like a wine cork. 

O)( COD, it has been Y -EARS since i last got 't cull somefin personally. Mmmmm, feels good.

Betty slicked her lips, and unceremoniously let the headless bottle fall. A bellow rose up from the pillars.

YAH BACKSTABBING NO GOOD ROTTEN- I'LL KILL YOU!

Boxcars hefted his axe into the air and charged, behind him, Deuce pulled out two fistfulls of explosives, tears in his beady white eyes. 

Yeah, nah.

Red and blue psionics crackled around Betty's face. Brilliant beams of like exploded from her eyes, incinerating the pair in an instant. Boxcar's axe flew spinning from the blast, and embedded itself in the spine of a fallen drone.

That's half this awful mess cleaned up.  Now where were we. Oh yeah, gurl, get over here.

Betty curled her finger at Jane in beckoning, and the sleuth complied.

Fuck, no!

Dirk charged at the Crocker head, sword drawn. She threw her head back in a laugh and telekinetically flung the Strider aside. 

Jane stood before her and looked up. The metal disk on her head fully extended into a tiara across her brow.

Yo, know what i love most about mah plans? they always work. )(AA )(AA

Hoo. Hoo. 

The baroness frowned.

Who said you could laugh? Only I get to laugh. This is the demon's work, I wager. Some mnemonic taint. Oh never mind. Now le's take make mah shit back you ungrateful little mo'fucka. This will hurt, deary.

Betty brushed the docile girl's hair aside and cradled her cheek.

Vrisk and Tavros stood either side of Dirk, trying to rouse him back to consciousness.

Come oooooooon, wake up you stupid lug. Wh8t's the plan? Do I have to come up with everything around here? 

vRISKA, wE REALLY, rEALLY NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE,

No way. The spotlight's shining right on this stage and I'm not stepping off without a fight. Don't you see, Tavros this is our 8ig chance.

Vriska flashed a fanged grin at her partner. 

yOU MIGHT DIE,

And don't you think dying ought to 8e a real gr8 adventure?

 

Still by Snowman's body, Slick gritted his teeth. Droog's head had landed just beside him, hat still firmly on its head. He dropped the bloody crowbar to the ground and picked up Diamond's hat. A cold, hard finger tapped him on the shoulder.

it was t00 sudden t0 d0 anything

Aradia handed him the hats of Clubs and Hearts.

yet i feel i sh0uld still have d0ne s0mething

Slick stuffed the hats away and looked up. Smoke rose off Aradia's metal body, and her suit was scorched. 

You're a mess, kiddo.

0kay

 

A scream rang out across the room. On the center of the floor, Betty Crocker held Jane aloft in the air. Blood poured down Jane's face. In Betty's hand was Jane's lenscomp, torn from its socket and dripping red. 

Ah, there it is. Such a little thing. Such a useful fin.  You have searched my city eleven times over looking for your father. Met a lot a people what be havin a not too frondly attitude toward mah rule. You have seen countless people who would conspire against old Betty, and this lovely little eye saw it all. That's why it happened you know. Why I took mah boring old grandson an hid him from you.  Why I had some friendly assassins not kill you, but leave you in need of my lovely products. I got me a quota of causality to keep but if there be one thing I do love more than nasty clowns its having the things I need handed to me on a golden platter.

Jane's prosthetic arm jerked to life, and slugged a sucker punch right across Betty's jaw. The bloody lenscomp flew from her hand, and she barely caught it with her psionics.

Yo what the fuck? STAY ASL -E -EP, B -EACH.

Crocker probed the girls mind, but found barely a speck of consciousness. Instead she found someone else entirely.

You left the 8ack door open you dum8 8road.

Vriska laughed, one hand held to her brow in deep focus. 

Tavros, the squeak8easts!

aH, rIGHT,

He pulled four fiduspawn balls from his belt and hurled them to the ground. Each red and orange ball exploded into a flock of glowing purple bats. He gestured his psychic will, and they immediately swarmed around Betty's head. Every few seconds a fissure would run down the middle of them, and one bat would become two. Blue and red psionics crackled around her eyes, but another blow of Jane's arm dispelled the built up energy before it could release.

Okay you kids are seriously putting a clam on my razzle now. Is gon' take all night to unharsh my inner vajazzle.

Betty flung out her arm, casting out a telekinetic wall,but the shockwave met with equal force before it could reach more than the closest of the animals attacking her face and hair.

y0u are the c0ndesce c0rrect

Aradia slowly raised herself off the ground. Her knife-like teeth gnashed together with every word.

dr00g t0ld me y0u had every p0wer kn0wn t0 tr0llkind

One of the room's column's detached itself with a grinding crunch, and rotated mid-air to be parallel with the floor pointed at Betty.

i w0nder if that will be en0ugh t0 save y0u

Spades Slick stepped forward. His whole body rolled forward and back with each heavy breath. His flesh burned with savage shadow magic. In one hand was his long, black barreled hangun. In the other hand was his bloodied horse hitcher. 

Betty tried to wrest control of the bats, but Jane's unconscious body drove its fist into the corner of her jaw. She tried to seize dominion of Jane, but the bats bit at her face and gnawed at her lip and tore at her cheeks. She tried to fell the bats with telekinisis, but Aradia matched it force for force. Slick, Sawtooth and Squarewave all approached, weapons drawn.

Alright dearies. I doubt any of you are smart enough to have coordinated this, but I will give credit where it's due. Six hundred years ago this might have actually worked against little old me. Now halibut I point out the first a you little pilchard's oversights. I am an executive, and thus have access to the company army. CULL -EM ALL

The drones standing perimeter around the room broke formation and charged. Aradia spun around and fired the column beside her, launching a drone right out the window. Slick gave a bloodcurdling scream and ran straight for the former empress. He cleaved a drone in two with a swing of his hitcher, then raised his gun and fired a ball of blazing shadow magic right though the head of another. The Condesce bristled, and lowed her captive to the ground.

Janey sweety, be a dear and CULL YOUR FRI -ENDS.

Jane jerked upright, the tiara grafted to her skull throbbing with red light. She drew her fork, and dashed forward to meet Slick weapon to weapon, oblivious to the blood running down the side of her face.

Vriska and Tavros were forced to drop their concentration to fend off the drones. Vriska through down her dice, and bolts of blue shot out against the red robots within fifteen feet of her. Tavros whipped out a pair of daggerlances and thrust them both into another drone's neck, before jumping up to kick the drone's head clean off. His white-shoed robo-feet connected, and the drone's head was launched out the window to roughly 3.218688 leagues away.

 

When she wasn't pulling suppression, Aradia tore drones apart left and right with her telekinesis, and hurled the pieces at Betty whenever she got the chance. 

 

Slick pinned Jane down, robot arm to robot arm, a shadow-burning knife in his hand.

It's this doohickey that makes you into one of her puppets, right? What if I do this?

He flipped his grip on the knife around and drove its point right into the tiara's emblem. Shadow magic lanced through the device, and Jane stiffened like someone struck my lightning. Slick twisted the knife till the tip broke off, and let it fall. 

Now come on girly. Wake the hell up.

He slapped each side of her face, and shook her till she stirred. 

What? What happened?

Now's hardly the time to stay asleep.

Slick bristled, rising to his feet.

The witch ain't dead yet.

nor gon' be any time soon, Jack.

Betty approached, face scratched and bleeding, a dead bat squeezed in her hand. 

Now why did you have to go an do a bothersome thing like that?

 

A drone punched Tavros's left arm against a column, shattering both the marble and the troll's bones. His daggerlances dropped from his grip. A roll of Vriska's dice blasted the drone away with a barrage of thaumaturgic torpedoes.

Are you alr8?

nO,

Yes you are. Suck it up.

The bull troll dove between the headless drone's legs, and snatched up Snowman's discarded lance in his good arm. 

 

 

Betty looked down in disgust at Jane. Steeling herself, Jane drew her weapon.

If I cannot make use of you imma jus' take back all mah otter sweet gifts too, brat.

With a yell, Jane leveled her drone-horn trident and charged. Betty casually side stepped the blow, the fork's prongs missing her neck my inches, and snatched out with her arms to grab Jane by the prosthetic arm.

Shoulda reed the fineprint gurl, this is just a rental.

She braced one hand against Jane's shoulder, and as effortless as drawing a line she pulled. The red limb was torn away with a sickening crunch of metal and polymers. The psuedo nerve receptors gave out one last panic signal as they were severed, which the brain interpreted as raw, unfiltered pain. Jane screamed, black fluid spilling from the prostheses' jagged stump.

Betty gives, and Betty takes away.

The baroness let Jane fall to the ground, and turned around to send a lunging Slick flying with a swing of the dismembered machine limb. 

The one-eyed Dersite came to a skidding halt by remaining civilians. They looked upon him fearfully, and he smirked.

More than one way to hurt a bitch.

Spades Slick gathered his shadow magic into his steel arm, grit his razor teeth, and drove his fist right through the floor beside him. His magic exploded in a rain of concrete and wood, and a broad hole, easily three meters across collapsed in the floor.

Get the hell out of here you craven maggots, you bother me.

He snarled and rose to his feet. With just a moments hesitation, the last few corporate leaders and press members scurried out through the hole he'd made. The stout prospitan lady stayed put.

Hey, you're the one that killed Matchsticks right?

Slick looked to the roller and can in her hands.

Was that his name?

Her voice was high and sweet, the perfect pitch of innocence.

Heh. I always knew there was something I liked about you. Ms Paint, right? How did a girl like you end up working for a man like that old rebel?

I worked for the White Queen. You'll need to guess what I did.

 

Sawtooth and Squarewave stood either side of Dirk as he stumbled to his feet, cutting and punching back every drone that came near. One got close enough to Sawtooth to pin his sword arm to the wall, but he unzipped his relic hoodie, extended the missile batteries from his sides and blasted the drone away with a full salvo. The explosion rattled Dirk's head and left his ears ringing.

Fuck. Okay, so the situation just got ten times worse, right?

Both the robots nodded in unison.

Fine then. Let's see what Old Bro's gear can really do. Fetch modus, set modus to hash rap.

Dirk tapped the ground with his foot a few times and nodded his head, setting himself up a rhythm.

This city's a sinking ship going up in smoke, and gentlemen it's been an honor. I got blood on my hands, sweat on my brow, and Betty, I got moxie. I got tighter rhymes, fighter bots, and on my back is strapped my boomboxie.

A metal pack deployed itself from his sylladex and wrapped around his torso with iron straps. It looked like a thick square metal slab, with both round and rectangular speakers protruding from it. A mouthpiece coiled around his neck, and a booming bassline thumped out. Squarewave punched a hole clean through a drone before it could take a swing at the Strider.

This shit is gonna get crazy. Execute fraymotif CRUNK dot E X E

BZZZT. Groove: Strife. Shade: Hoard

Alright Betty, I've got some artillerate stored. Too much blood you have poured, this aggrieved city thinks you're a terrible landlord. So up shit creek I have oared to leave gored the shriveled old organs in your chest gourd. Can't abscond, girl, cuz I my hands on this ancestral SORD.

The strange blue blade appeared in his hand, and slowly started drifting to the left. He adjusted his grip, and struggled to maintain control over it.

Betty turned and hurled Jane's prosthetic arm at him. The limb fell apart the second it got within range of him, and a few seconds later he swung the SORD. Dirk stared at the weapon incredulously. The weapon made a mockery of causality. 

That's rich, arraignin me to anciant slam poetry, welcome aboard. bitch, back on Alternia I wrote the book on arsenalizin the word. At what point did you come to believe a god emperess's rhymes you could afford? If you won't accede little boy best you act now cuz heads tend to roll when I get bored.

 

Moving as a single unity, Dirk and his two robots sarved through the drones swarming the room. Dirk swung and ducked, and Sawtooth jumped over him to punch open the armor plating over a drone's internal mechanisms. A moment later huge deep gouges appeared across them, and the drone fell down. Two more drones charged, and Sawtooth skewered them through the waist on his blade, holding them in place so Dirk could sever their heads. 

Betty pulled out a golden 2x3dent, its sleek points glinting in the city lights. Her thin lips crooked in a regal smile. 

 

Vriska's dice rattled across the ground. When they came to a rest a large black cannon appeared beside them, and fired a flaming cobalt cannonball at the baroness. She seized i telekinetically a full meter from her, and redirected the missile back where it came from. Vriska yelped, scooped up her dice and leapt out of the way as it blew a hole clear through the wall. 

 

Aradia flung debris and furniture at the baroness left and right. Some were cut down, some telekinetically crushed and some obliterated by optic blasts. When she began to run low of sizable objects she pulled Droog's discarded shotgun to her hand and opened fire. The successive hail of shots formed a wall of lead before the Condesce's outstretched hand.

w0ah

Accelerated fast enough to create a deafening boom the bullets were turned back on the trollbot, and tore through her steel chassis like shots from a railgun. Thick blue blood spilled from her wounds, and Aradia went crashing to the ground.

 

Ms Paint narrowed her little black eyes and slung her can upwards, dousing Betty in paint thinner. When she caught it again, the container sparked and innocuous doubled into the flamethrower. She fired the jet, and red hot flames enveloped the former empress. The Condesce screamed in fury, her makeup burnt off to reveal the gray skin of her gaunt face, and lunged with her psident. Ms Paint barely dodged, and drove her tazer into the flaming fish troll's exposed arm. Betty's ancient body stiffened, but she held her weapon fast and spun on her heel to parry a synchronized assault from Dirk and his robots.

 

Crocker flung them aside with telekinesis and turned back to Ms Paint, her eyes crackling with psionic energy. 

Hey chowder-head!

Slick leapt up to the much taller woman's back, wrapped his legs around her neck and pulled her head back by the face. Her psionics blasted straight up through the ceiling, tore through the building all the way to the night sky. Slick gritted his teeth, and struggled to hang on with only his robot arm. The hand of the other had been hel over one of her eyes, and the whole limb had been torn clean off by the blast. A wreathe of shadow magic formed around the Condesce's neck and started to constrict. She gagged, and tore Slick off her back with one long bony arm. The magic dissipated. 

 

Holding Slick up high, Betty raised her psident and gave one quick, hard jab. Ms Paint barreled into her, knocking her back, and Slick fell to the ground screaming in fury. Blood poured down his face and stained one of the psident's tines. 

You took my other eye you fucking bitch!

He dragged his hands down his face, gnashing his teeth together, and flung bolts of shadow magic wildly about the room. Were it not for the prospitan's interference, his whole brain would have been skewered. Ms Paint ran over to his dark-burning form.

It's okay, it's okay, I'm here.

 

The Condesce kicked Squarewave into a wall, and exchanged blows with Dirk, neither able to land a proper hit. 

 

Tavros yelled a halted battlecry and charged at her from behind with Snowman's lance. She sidestepped, causing him to run past her, and Betty snatched him up by the back of the head. She spun around and drove his horns right into the marble of a column beside her, down to the l bend of the orange protrusion. 

uH OH,

Crocker telekinetically flung him into the floor, snapping the points of his horns off. She slammed him face first into the ground again and again, then stepped over and ground her heel into his spine.

You f8cking 8itch!

Vriska threw her dice so hard they bounced into the air. They didn't come back down. Instead they arranged themselves in a ring and began rotating at screaming speeds. From the center of the spinning ring a thick cerulean beam shot straight for the baroness. Betty met the attack with her optic blasts. The sound of thunder boomed when the two forces met, but the Betty easily overcame the spider troll's attack. The force of both beams hit Vriska square in the chest and flung her right through one of the last remaining marble columns. She started to get back up, but the damaged white pillar came down on her with a nauseating crunch. 

Aradia staggered to her feet from where she'd fallen. All of her telekinetics were devoted to holding the damage to her body together, and abridging her shot up circulatory system. Her blue blood could be clearly seen as it passed from one side of a bullet hole to the other. She threw her arms back in a screeching mechanical bellow and charged, fists flying into the fray. Dirk, Sawtooth, Squarewave and Aradia all maintained a relentless assault on the Condesce from all sides, but not only was the old sea troll holding them off she was actually pushing them back. Sparks flew where metal met metal, and the boom of Dirk's bass might have been the only thing keeping them as coordinated as they were at all.

 

Ms Paint tore off a strip of her dress and bound Slick's messed up shoulder with it. The only reason he hadn't bled out already was his own shadow magic had cauterized the wound. She tore off another strip and wrapped it around his eyes. His mechanical arm twitched and spasmed, desperate for something to break. She placed her hand in it, and gave him a sad smile he couldn't even see.

 

Vriska coughed, cerulean blood splattering her mouth and chest. Her arms struggled against the column pinning her down, but lacked the energy or leverage to move it.

Heeeeeeeey, Tavros?

yEAH,

You dead?

nOT YET, BUT i DOUBT THAT WILL, uHH, lAST,

Tavros laughed weakly, and turned to face his partner some three meters away. 

yOU KNOW, wHAT THE FUNNY THING IS,

What?

rIGHT NOW MY LEGS ARE, pRETTY MUCH THE ONLY THING, tHAT i CAN MOVE

The mechanical ankle of his right foot twitched in demonstration.

Hey, that is pretty funny.

Vriska chuckled. She couldn't tell if the wetness on her face was blood or tears. Her arms fell away from the column on top of her. 

sO, iS THIS IT,

Yeah. Can't even manage one last roll of the dice. Looks like our luck finally ran out.

sORRY,

Nah, it's cool.

Vriska let her eyes fall closed.

Death ought to 8e an awfully 8ig adventure too, don't you think?

The bull troll made no reply.

Tavros? You dum8ass, w8 up. Don't go leaving me 8ehind.

She took in a deep, wheezing breath, and let her consciousness be carried away. Nearby, Jane's slumped frame started to stir.

 

The Condesce glimpsed an opening, and lunged with her psident. It's golden prongs tore through the boombox on Dirk's back, silencing the beat. Squarewave stumbled midstep as he moved to intercept her, and she immediantly spin around to drive her weapon right through his neck. The robot's head came clean off. Dirk leapt up and capcthalogued it before it could fall. She moved to strike him too, but Sawtooth stepped in like lightning and sent her weapon flying away. He quickly changed his stance and thrust for her heart, but the Condesce grabbed his hands my the wrists. Her telekinetics flashed, and both the sword and the robot's hands shattered. Sawtooth staggered away, out of hands and out of missiles. Aradia charged forward, only to be telekinetically flung to the ceiling. A moment later she came crashing down. Betty turned to Dirk. He looked almost dead on his feet, dripping with blood and sweat, his stance barely held at all. The SORD was barely between his fingers, and looked like it might fly off at any moment. Apart from the damage to her clothes and hair, it was impossible to tell the Condesce had been fighting at all. Every last wound of hers had closed up.

Word to ya lusus.

Three jagged horns burst out from Betty Crocker's stomach. Fuschia blood pooled beneath her.

You!

Jane stood behind the Condesce, her red trident held in her remaining arm and thrust through the sea troll clean through from behind.

Dirk!

Siezing the chance, Dirk held the SORD to his side and ran forward. With one last burst of faster-than-sight speed he dashed passed the baroness and came to a halt just beside Jane. Something echoed that sounded like nanchosnak. He flicked the SORD to the side like he was flinging blood from its blade, even though it was clean, and captchalogued the blade. Causality took one look at the situation and handed the laws of time and space its formal resignation. Betty Crocker's chest erupted in a spray of blood, and Jane pulled out her weapon.

Congratz lususfuckers, y'all actually got a good dish on me.

The Condesce turned and straighted herself up. A fresh spray of blood erupted from her wound.

W)(AT?

That's the thing about the SORD,

Dirk picked up the abandonded baculum can and handed it to Jane to lean on. 

It's cuts last forever.

Copious amounts of magenta fluid pooled at the Condesce's feet and stained her red dress.

No. NO I can fix this. Y'all no clue who you be dealing with, krill My body is a temple and I am a GOD. YOU WILL KN -E -EL!

The ground cracked around the Condesce, buckling under a sudden force of telekinesis. It spread out rapidly, but suddenly stopped.

we have t0 hurry

Aradia stepped towards them, arm outstretched towards the former emperess. Blue blood leaked from her riveted seams.

Some trashy bot ain't no match for me!

The Condesce redoubled her efforts, and Aradia winced from the strain.

d0 s0mething!

Jane ran towards one of the fallen drones, it's circuits chewed through by Tavros's bats and a battleaxe embedded in its spine, but not terribly deep. She swapped the cane out for her trident and drove its prongs under the metal plate covering the back of its neck. With a heave, the plate came off, and she drove her weapon right into its damage circuits. Sparks burst as connections were abridged, and the hulking red titan rose to its feet.

Crocker override. Command code aon-eins-ett-uno-en-viens-jedan-eka-zu-qlig-one.

The drone clicked and whirred in recognition, and kneeled before the Crocker heiress. She climbed up onto its shoulder and hooked the cane around its neck to hold on to.

Everyone who can move but not fly, get on!

She directed the drone to the two fallen thieves. It easily lifted aside the column pinning Vriska, and gently scooped the two trolls into its arms. Ms Paint guided Slick over and helped him climb up into the crook of the drone's elbow before getting in alongside him. Dirk leapt up onto the other shoulder opposite Jane, Sawtooth floating behind him.

Aradia!

Jane turned the drone around and fired its jets, sliding forward across the floor to the broken windows. The trollbot nodded and slowly backed towards it, her opposition of the Condesce's psychic explosion losing ground by the second.

Have a slow and painful death you backstabbing miserable loach.

Slick cackled madly as the drone leapt from the window. Aradia stopped holding back the Condesce's power, and bolted out the window after them. The hall exploded around Betty Crocker; stone and marble shattered not only on that floor, but those above and blow it too. The baroness's wrath-filled scream rang out into the night as a whole chunk of the building collapsed around her. Dirk coughed into his hand, and regarded their surroundings.

Jane I hope you know how to fly this thing because we got more drones coming right for us and I don't think anyone's in a state to deal with them.

Where are we heading?

Go for Equius. We badly need medical attention, some more than others.

He glanced down at the two mangled trolls in the drone's arms.

Some more than others.

 

With the cane hooked around its neck Jane turned the drone towards the trollslum and picked up speed, Aradia and Sawtooth flying alongside it. In the distance, numerous red specks zeroed in on their position. Already they fired upon them, though currently too fire to hit them. Bullets zoomed past them far and wide, but with every second that passed they got a bit closer. Jane shook her head, trying to keep from blacking out. A drop of blood trickled past the edge of her lip. It took her a moment to realize the world seemed less sharper than usual, and a whole lot less annotated.

You didn't happen to grab my eye back did you?

It slipped my mind. Sorry.

No matter.

Jane closed her eye for a second. 

They had just reached the edge of Trollslum. The drone was riddled with bullets. Sawtooth tried to fend their pursuers off using just his feet.

She closed her eye for a second. 

They were flying down the hollowed out interior of a ruined building. Another drone plummeted beside them, a huge hole blown in its midsection. 

She closed her eye for a second.

The drone came to a skidding halt just in front of Equius's undercity castle. People were yelling but they made no sense. Something lifted her from the drone's shoulder. 

She closed her eye and drifted to sleep. It was a restless, fevered sleep, where dreams mingled freely with the edge of consciousness. 

I will begin preparing the surgical tables at once.

two late for thii2 paiir, braiin death ha2 already begun.

Please wait just one moment Mister Slick. We must see to these two first.

fuck thii2. they want a miiracle out of me let the 2emiigode22 deciide on iit. hey eq, pa22 me jar of honey.

This one? Wait is this not mind honey? Are you abso100tely sure you should be eating that? Mister Captor!

ehehehehehe there ii2 one thiing we can do,

Bro would you be able to bring up some spare robots from the cellar. Also some more towels.

thii2 part ii2 already dead. ooh, thii2 ii2 2tiil workiing. dead, dead, clo2e enough two work wiith,

Very few of these bones are suitable. Do I have your permision Sollu% to replace them as I see fit?

why do you have 2o much blood ju2t lyiing around anyway?

What do you think the chances are of reje%ion?

wiith the amount of metal iin them already, ii'd 2ay we're fiine. hey, that eye'2 2tiill good, don't throw iit away!

Oh my. I did not realize you could repair horns in such a way.

2ay, do you thiink they'd miind iif we 2liipped a few extra deviice2 iin here whiile we're at iit?

Abso100tely. It would be utterly reprehensible. Please order me to do so.

ehehehehe, you're one 2iick fuck.

I need. A towel.

2hiit! hang on. ii can fiix thii2.

Mister Captor. If I may ask you something.

2hoot.

Are you actually a surgeon?

what? who ever 2aid that? ii work wiith computer2. ii ju2t happen two have a knack for braiin2.

Oh fiddlesti%.

hey ii thiink we're done. there'2 alway2 all thii2 leftover junk when you do a biit of diiy ii2n't there?

Sollu% please.

and then there was darkness.


	13. Epilogue

Halfway across the city, some time prior, a crimson and magenta streak shot across the night sky. It flew faster than the naked eye could see, and left a paint, pink mist in its trail. it flew straight from the heavily damaged Town Hall all the way to the Crockercorp tower. It shot right through the office window on the tower's top floor, and with blood slicked hands tore open the secret panel on the floor that hid a transportalizer pad. With a muted flash they vanished from the office at the top of the Crockercorp tower and appeared some eleven stories below sea level, at the bottom of the tower's complex. They stepped off the pad and into the deeply hidden lab. Tanks of fluid, strange devices, computer terminals and charts sat about the lab in neat arrangement. Something in the largest tank swam over and tapped the glass.

damn gurl you look all kinds of washed up. what made chowder out of you?

Shut up Meenah. I ain't got no time for your sass.

Betty Crocker staggered away from the transportilizer, one arm held across her chest in a futile attempt to stem the blood loss.

oh come on, don't be that wave. whatever hap'd to having all the time in the world?

Inside the tank was a young, female troll, her long black hair billowing out behind her in the water. 

Well I )(AD thought I'd reach an advanced state of life that even without that dank ass demon voodoo nothing could keep me down.

manatee water my always glubbing ya? you take too much for granted.

I just don't get it. W)(Y was I not informed that Strider sword what looks like shitty blue foam was actually packing some weird time shit?

Betty fell to her knees, nails scraped along the table's wood. With a strained grunt she pulled herself back to her feet. 

y'allways was a shitty clone anyhow.

Betty held her head back and took a deep, stuttering breath.

Yeah yeah. A few too many mutations here and there. )( -ELL, look at me.

She spun around and pulled at her face. Fuchsia blood splashed across the floor below her.

Barely fifty sweeps old and dying of old age like some common puke blood. O)( i have sacrificed so much. so much for the sake of you Meenah.

Betty took one of the printouts and forced herself towards one of the computers.

I cut my hair like some nun, I painted my face like some nasty clown, I cut my horns like some heretic and I cut my fins like some exile. I bore this shame and humiliation for perigee after perigee, sweep after sweep, preparing things for you.

She spun around, splattering bright blood across the front of the tank. Meenah frowned. 

Well, it be a few sweeps earlier than planned but it gonna have to do. I'll just have to not make any public appearances. Maybe I can figure somefin out so i can not have to cut everything off again because that stung like a B -E -EC)(. One thang be for sure I will not miss this shitty clone's half baked flesh sack. It gonna be reel good getting into my real body once more.

an what happens to me?

The girl in the tank tilted her head, bubbles rushing from her gill.

We're the same person pearl for brains. From where you be squatting I might as well have died with you taking all my memories an the same be for me.

so whoever comes out will think they be both of us in some flawless union?

They won't just T)(INK it be like it is, it do. If it makes ya feel betta since iss your body you be the slightly more real one. Now do me a favor and try not to move too much.

Betty put in a few commands into the computer terminal, and an array of pronged deviced descended from the tank's roof. 

you be pretty weak right now huh?

Yeah like I said watch out for the shitty blue sword. I cain't quit make as much blood as I be losing and these wounds they not be healing.

damn that must suck. you seem hella tired too, must ha' over exerted yourself in that nasty old hag flesh of yours. why any old kipper could just swim right up and blow you over.

Betty turned from the computer and narrowed her eyes. Beside it, a chair emerged with an odd, complicated headpiece.

Meenah what the fuck be you glubbin on about?

i be glubbin i don buy your half assed 'we can rule together' mind shit. i ain't no fool. you come in her i be sharkbait, just like whatever poor kid was in that sad sack of plankton before you escaped in there. i got's a bet's idea.

Meenah flipped upside down, drew back one toned, gray leg and slammed it into the glass. Cracked webbed out from the point of impact, and she was knocked away.

For fuck's sakes gurl, be reasonable.

Betty tried to extend to her psychic will, to put her new body to sleep, but after all her blood loss she couldn't muster the concentration to so much as scrape the youth's will. Meenah swam up and kicked the glass again, shattering it with her powerful legs. The tank spilled out over the floor, frying the electronic instruments not protected from water damage and washing away the former empress's lost blood. Meenah climbed out the tank, not caring where she cut herself and stood up. She walked, no, strutted, naked as the day she'd been ectocloned, towards Betty Crocker and kicked her legs out from under her. 

Little girl, stop. You'll ruin everything for this wonderful company.

ya sea? you been living the lie so long you can't get away. this facade shit be like oil on a gullwing's back. your brain be insane in the membrane is what i be sayin, and i don't need none a that shit in me.

W)(AT THE )(ELL DO YOU T)(IN YOU'RE DOING?

The Condesce raised her head and bellowed, crackling with psychic energy.

y'know you got all these dank powers from unlocking your inner slurry and all that shit

Meenah squatted down, and grabbed the Baroness's head between her hands.

but there be one power your wrinkly ass is missing. the one born from paradox rather than dumb troll genes. do you know what my title would have been had i fought in that war? had you not taken me and put me on ice so you had another way of cheatin death? Some dark whisperin did glub it to me in a dream.

Betty's eyes grew heavy. She could feel her psionics fading from her mind.

i be the T)(I -EF of LIF -E YO and T)(ANKS FOR T)( -E POW -ERS

Meenah, why?

Betty gasped, struggling for breath as her lungs and liver both failed. 

because fuck you, meenah.

Then her heart gave way, and Betty Crocker was just a lifeless corpse. Meenah jumped up, and stretched her arms behind her head.

cod it feels good to be out of that tank. so dam good. i could go frig myself now if i ain't got such serious business to do.

Meenah looked down at her double's corpse and sneered.

i don't know what weird time shit you pulled for the ectospawn of some paradox clone and some other paradox clones from now to become me who is also you in the past an frankly i do not care one fish. red is NOT a good color on us.

She kicked the corpse in the ribs, then looked around.

now where is that flashy-take-the-people-to-the-placey-dealie?

 

 

When Jane came to she found herself assaulted and slandered by a splitting headache, the rest of her body held up by agonies too for that matter. She cracked open one bloodshot eye, and when that proved nonfatal after all she sat up. Beneath her was the supple firmness of a blue leather couch, and someone had tossed a blanket over her as well when they'd moved her. A quick glance of the architecture, statues. and paintings of muscled horses told her they'd made it safely to Equius's after all.

Sleep well?

Jane almost threw the very couch she was sitting on at the sudden voice. She'd thought she was alone in the room.

Dirk? Where are you?

He dropped down from the ceiling bannisters and landed with his hands already in his pant pockets. He'd switched back to his work wife-beater at some point.

Around. I couldn't sleep. Can you stand?

Jane tried to rise, but her right hand slipped right through the couch below her and she fell on her side. Pain bristled across her shoulder. Scowling, she sat up again, and actually paid attention this time. The only thing left of her nose was darkness, her lenscomp was missing. The rest of her sight was blurred, her glasses where missing. Her prosthetic arm was missing, and it left the right side of her body feeling uncomfortably light. Something tight, bandages most likely, had been bound around her head and several places on her body. Relying on her left arm, Jane pulled herself up. A tide of dizziness washed over her, and Dirk put her arm around her shoulder when she swayed dangerously.

Easy there. How are you feeling?

Quite terrible, to be frank. My head feels like its host to the monster truck rock orchestra dirby and someone's spiked all the refreshments. What happened? I'm afraid my memory is an absolute mess right now.

Well that stands to reason. Your brain wasn't exactly treated gently. Do you want the long version or the short version?

Ooh, short.

She rubbed her brow, and flinched when she found another bandage there.

We won the battle, but probably not the war.

Dirk walked her over to the dining room, and sat her down in one of the cushioned chairs. When she looked up he'd already procured a jug of chilled milk from somewhere and had poured her a glass.

Okay, that's a little bit too short. Let's just go over this point by point. Is the Mayor alive?

Yes. Full marks on that one.

Jane took a drink of her glass. The milk was a good deal creamier than she was used to, but the cooled beverage went down smooth and did wonders for taking the edge off her headache."

Did we find out where Dad is?

Sort of. We have Spades Slick with us, and he's willing to cooperate in as much as it will involve violence on his part.

What happened to me?

She gingerly placed her remaining hand over the bandaged up hole in her right eye socket, and winced at the touch.

It turns out there was a hidden surveillance routine in your lenscomp. It didn't actually transmit anything so I never noticed it. The crumplehat society, Feferi, Eridan, anyone you ever met that admitted to or even hinted at rebelling against Betty or aiding her enemies, with that eye the Baroness could easily find them and wipe them out.

Betty Crocker, did we kill her?

I'd hoped so. Thanks to you I managed to wound her really badly. She shouldn't have been able to recover from it, but maybe she found a way around it because she made an official broadcast earlier declaring the entire city-state under martial law so long as our 'terrorist cell' is at large. Well, if it's her or just the system acting without a head, Crocker Corp is still backed into a corner.

Jane regarded his flawless facade, not a slightest twitch to his lip or brow, his eyes perfectly hidden by his pointy shades.

I know what you're thinking, Mister Strider.

Do you?

You want me to 'prove' Betty is dead, and have me go public to formerly inherit the company.

The thought never crossed my mind.

No, it squatted there like a rotund toad a while ago and never left.

Are we about to have a disagreement on just what does and does not count as one thing having crossed another thing?

Are you going to change the subject so easily?

Are you going to let me?

Is now really the time for this?

Jane took her pipe from her sylladex and lit up. A few of the steps took a few tries from her trying to use a hand that wasn't there. Dirk wiped up some of the tobacco spilled over the tablecloth.

We need to know what our next move is before we do it.

You just want to set me up as a puppet ruler you can run things yourself through. Don't think I don't realize this, Strider.

It's nothing so inconsiderate. I would just be an adviser. It would be your hand at the wheel.

Pipe in mouth, Jane slammed her fist against the table with a hollow thunk.

Dirk, I've read Machiavelli too. People in those positions make too good scapegoats to public appeasement for any prince to pass up. The moment you 'advised' me to do something that puts the people in an uproar. could you really resist the elegant solution of offering me to them like a pig to the slaughter?

You don't trust me.

He said it like a fact. If there was any sense of betrayal behind his words he hid it well.

I don't want to live with money burning one pocket, power burning the other, and the knowledge that it could all be swept out from under me. There's not room for both of us at the top and I'd much rather just leave you to it than doing this song and dance about real and shadow leaders.

Okay, I'll drop the subject for now. I won't bring it up again until you do.

Thank you Dirk. Now, how is Roxy and her two?

She's fine. Right now her and Eridan are keeping an eye open outside. Sollux has been pretty busy helping Equius with...surgery.

Since when was Sollux a surgeon?

She raised an eyebrow. 

He isn't. What he is however, is a potent psychic with a keen understanding of how brains work and very acute precision.

Jane turned and glances sceptically at her own vacant shoulder.

I suppose I was bottom of the waiting list, then.

No offense, but yes. Also in your case we need to either find some more compatible Crockercorp parts or strip out all the housing still implanted in your body, which would leave you out of commission for a long time. Tavros and Vriska were left in Sollux and Equius's hands, and I patched up Slick as best I could with what was on hand.

Was that wise?

Trust me. Between the two, a stab happy cyborg that can see is better than one that can't. At least this way yu don't have to dodge a knife every time you walk into the same room as him.

So how are Tavros and Vriska?

It's...complicated. Also Sollux got in one of his moods and I wasn't there to stop him.

Oh no. What did he do?

He, well, he took the I.T. solution when presented with two busted up units.

I don't follow.

He took the parts that still work and-

wHAT, tHE, fUUUUUUUUCK, dID YOU DOOOOOOOO?

A scream echoes throughout the castle, followed by a certain prophet's deranged chuckling. 

You know what, just see for yourself.

 

The pair of them entered one of the work labs, Jane supporting herself on the cane she'd found in her sylladex. Most of the tools and clutter had been cleared away around the central bench, upon which sat an extremely bandaged individual with broad horns bent at a ninety degree angle. Jane took it for Tavros at first, but noticed they ended not in simple points but in mismatched hooks like Vriska's. In one hand the figure was smoking via the cigarette holder her addled memory identified as belonging to the Felt named Snowman. The other hand was angrily rummaging around under their bedsheets much to Equius's fluster.

i, i, oH MY GOOOOOOOOD, wH8 IS THIS, 8ETWEEN MY LEGS, lOOK 8T THIS, lOOOOOOOOK AT IT, cHANGE IT, eQUIUS, i, nO, wAIT KEEP 8T i, uGHHHHHH, mAKE IT, mAKE IT SO IT CAN CHANGE, fROM AN INNIE, TO AN OUTIE, aND 8ACK AGAIN, yEAH!

Towels. I need towels. 100 upon 100fold of towels.

Sweat dripped down his face and all his clothes were damp. Beside him Sollux was giggling like a madman, a spoon sticky with golden fluid sticking out from his mouth.

God damn it Sollux stop eating than shit before you cause even more trouble.

Dirk walked right up to the prophet and grabbed him by the shoulders. 

dk, plea2e, ii need two be at full alert to act at a moment'2 notiice the very 2econd any 2iigns2 of full body collap2e maniife2t.

wHAT? mY 8ODY'S GONNA WHAT? nO, nOT MINE, mINE, i, uUUUUUUUGH,

A violent spasm ran down the figure from head to toe, and they slumped back down onto the bench. Though most of their body was covered in bandages, a few features were still visible. The left eye was unmistakably Vriska's, with the way it bulged and the seven tiny pupils. The right eye was a bit smaller, and had a faint ring of brown emerging through the grey band of color, marking it as Tavros's. The left arm was unbandgaed, unlike the right, and Jane recognized it as Vriska's mechanical arm. The sheet draped over them was barely enough to cover, and Tavros's robotic legs peeked out from under them. 

So...are you Tavros? Or Vriska?

Jane hesitantly stepped into the room. The bandaged figure took a long draw on their cigarette.

8OTH, nEITHER, nO W8, dEFIN8LY 8OTH, i GUESS, fUCK THIS IS ALL SO CONFUSING!

They grit their teeth and Jane noticed Vriska's fangs had made it into the mix.

ehehehehe, ii 2pliced theiir braiin2 together liike patchwork. beiing of two miind2 aiin't 2o bad.

Sollux snickered to himself, and easily stepped out the way when his 'patient' took a swing at him.

i'LL KILL YOU!

Come now. Being one with your moirail is something all romantic trolls dream of. You are finally a whole being.

aND GO, uHH, FUCK YOURSELF TOO, wHOEVER YOU ARE, i FORG8 YOUR NAME, i UHH, gUESS THAT WAS RUDE OF ME,

I am Equius Zahhak. Pleasure to meet you either again or for the first time. Err.

Vriskvros. tAVKA, uHH, f8CK, tAV, vRIS, tAVRIS, fUCK IT, yEAH, tAVRIS, 8LUUUUUUUUH,

Now Tavris, what you are experiencing is a truly world class identity crisis, thanks to a frankly appalling crime against nature performed upon you by someone I am currently ashamed to be associated with.

nO SH8T? tHANKYOU DOCTOR i H8DN'T FUCKING NOTICED,

Your body is currently a horrible mash up of stitched together flesh and metal, and you could fall apart at the brushing of a particularly strong breeze. For the love of not collapsing into a horrible mess please do not do anything physically straining. At this point that includes walking and moving your head particularly fast.

fUCK, jUST KILL ME THEN, oR KNOCK ME OUT UNTIL i CAN DO 8T MYSELF,

the longer you 2tay consiiou2 the 2ooner your braiin wiil 2top 2hiitiing iit2elf wiith every liitle dii2crepancy.

i'M GOING TO GET 8ETTER, aND THEN I'M GOING TO KILL YOU, aAAAAAAALL OF YOU,

that'2 the 2piiriit.

 

Jane stepped out of the workshop, and Dirk followed.

Well that's...

Unfortunate? Disturbing? Utterly reprehensible? It's one of those things you try not to think about too hard because the damage is done and there's nothing you have any place to do. I will have more words for Sollux though later.

Yes, quite. So you said Slick was in the mood to negotiate?

The Baroness admitted to wanting the Crew out of her hair, and when the Felt failed to do that she took matters into her own hands. As long as it appeals to his need for revenge he'll probably agree to anything.

Her cane tapped loudly against the ground with her ever other step.

I see. I remember something about a drone. Is that still here?

That thing? You 'parked' it out front.

Show me.

 

Dirk led her down a flight of stairs, and down out the front entrance of the old Dersite castle. The red-painted Drone had been crashed knees first into the ground, gouging out a trail leading to where it stopped and snapping off both legs. Jane's horned poking solution trident still stuck out of the panel behind its neck and an axe still stuck in its spine. Jane put her cane away and set about climbing the collapsed drone's back.

Jane, what are you doing?

She sat on its shoulder, and with a great heave wrested her fork from it's spine. The sudden momentum as it came loose nearly tipped her right back off it.

Crockercorp technology is designed to be, for the most part, very plug n play.

She turned around and jammed her fork in the drone's shoulder. Metal ground against metal and the arm twitched.

You can't be serious.

With her hand held firmly on the handle, Jane pulled back. The Drone's body groaned in protest as its joints started to give.

We can sort something proper out later. Right now I need a full set of faculties to rescue my father.

With a final screech of friction the arm came off shoulder plate and all and crashed into the ground, raising a cloud of dust.

Jane that thing has to weigh a ton.

She crawled around to the front of the Drone's head, and set her fork to the task of prying off one of the drone's eyes.

I am fully aware, thank you very much. Equius has an alchemiter in this place, right?

Yeah, it's where Slick was last I saw him. I think he was making new suits.

Excellent.

The eye finally came off with a ping, and fell to the ground. Jane jumped down, and captchalogued both it and the arm. 

Take me there.

 

Inside the alchemy lab, Spades Slick sat on the ground, the three hats of his fallen crew members laid out before him. His own hat sat just in front of him, filled with licorice scottie dogs which he idly consumed. His head was covered in scarred chitin and metal plates. One eye was covered by a white eyepatch and the other had been replaced by a large red lens from one of Equius's trollbots. Ms Paint stood by him, holding him in a comforting embrace from behind. A fully set up alchemiter sat against the back wall, and was being operated by Aradia. True enough, some clean suits had been made, along with some spare hats, spare ammo, spare guns, spare explosives, and spare candy.

I gotta head back up. I hear Sollux making that obnoxiously loud giggle he does when he's being an unhinged asshole.

Alright, talk to you later.

Dirk nodded, and vanished back out the door. Slick didn't look up.

I hear you're the old guy's daughter. The heiress to Crocker. The nosy little bitch giving the girl the run around.

All true enough. I heard someone call you Jack Noir. The demon of the old war who brought both kingdoms to their knees. I hear you are Spades Slick, the most notorious gangster in Medality after the Lord of the Felt.

After huh? I'll change that soon enough lass, don't you worry. As for the rest, that be true also.

He held up one of his mechanical arms, and stared at the ring finger.

Me an the crew, we was born in a lab just like most of the other carapacians. When they made us, they stuck something in us, a shadow.

A small black flame appeared at the finger's tip, and was snuffed out.

They put a sword in my hand, pointed me at the door and told me to kill the white ones. That was life for pretty much every one. Well not everyone was harassed by the queen day in and out because it got her jollies off, but you get the picture. One day you just think, well screw you then, if I'm to spend my whole life killing I'll kill who I want. I stole one of my own kingdoms secret weapons, used that to steal an even bigger weapon, and took it for a joyride. Well, I got taken out by the Knight of Time, got saved by the Red Empress, and here I am. Yet I'd never replaced the finger that wore the ring. It made a nice reminder.

Reminder of what?

That being an immortal demon is so fucking boring.

He stuffed a fist full of scottie dogs in his mouth and gnashed down on them with his dagger-like teeth.

I had more fun taking the sodding thing than using it. What good's a knife that stabs everyone everywhere so hard they die instantly? My missing finger was a string to that. 'The bigger knife will leave you so depressingly bored getting hacked up by a little shit in stupid glasses is like sex'. Or something a bit more laconic, fuck it. No matter, the whole arm's gone now. Let this be a new lesson, never trust a smug bitch.

So you finish off Betty, or whoever is acting as her, then what?

Then I take down The Felt.

Then what?

Well I imagine by then someone else will have pissed me off so much I swear revenge on 'em. Everybody needs something to look forward to.

Hmm. Aradia, might I use that device.

Jane turned to Aradia and walked over. The trollbot backed off, not saying a word, though Jane noticed some rather large patches of her had been somewhat hastily repaired with not quite matching parts. 

Slick, could you do me a favor and tell me the code to your eyepatch?

Are you thinking of jacking my look, lass?

No, I just need it to make something.

Tch, fine. It's A2LESS1I

Thank you.

Jane messed around with different combinations of the codes to the eyepatch, the drone's eye, and her own half-glasses until she got something she liked. After consuming a small chunk of her grist supplies the alchemiter spat out a pair of red glasses on a chain. The right lens was completely white and opaque, barring a glowing red crocker logo in the middle, and a Crocker model high speed data cable hung down from the back of it.

You still gonna to wear her ugly brand?

I'm going to take it from her. She took away everything I had, maybe it's time I took a few things for myself.

She unwound the bandages covering her face and put the glasses on. She pushed the little find signal button on the back of the frames, and the glasses immediately detected what was left of her lenscomp's wiring inside her socket. The data cable split and latched on to the wires leading out of her brain. She grit her teeth. The constant shocks of artificial nerves being identified by her brain and coming online rattled about her perception. A few seconds later, the other half of the world popped into her sight. 

are you sure she can n0t c0ntr0l you again

That was the thing on her crown that did that, right? I stabbed that thing real good.

Slick laughed, and swallowed the last candy from his hat.

There, that wasn't so bad.

Jane chuckled to herself, sweat beading on her brow. 

Now for the fun part.

She combined the codes for the drone's arm, and one of the trollbot arms lying around, and made something more her size. With her new glasses, she was able to interface with her prosthetics firmware and send the eject command to what was left of the torn out limb still in the housing. The mangled forearm and half her should hit the ground with a dull thud. She breathed in, long and deep, then blew it out. Before she could psyche herself out of it, Jane hit a tiny button on the new limb's shoulder and shoved it against her empty socket. Fireworks exploded behind her eyes and her nerves burst in a flashfire of over stimulation and she fell to her knees. A thousand times worse than any sleeping limb, the miniature drone arm began to wake up to sensation. 

are y0u 0kay

Oh fine. Just dandy. Give me a minute.

Every breath had to be choked down like it might escape, but slowly the pain subsided to an alienating tingle. Dripping with sweat, she rose to her feet, and almost sumbled again. Though more to scale now, the limb was still much heavier than her previous one, and left her overall weight lopsided towards it. Jane took out the cane and balanced the limb's great weight upon it. Slick hissed queietly, and rose to his feet.

Where did you get that cane?

This?

She looked down at the black, twisted object.

I must have picked it up at some point during the confusion.

Huh. Maybe it's a sign.

Slick?

You're going to finish off the seahag too, you said?

Yes, that's right.

What do you say we team up? I'll need a full deck to take on that half dead bitch, much as I hate it.

He picked up his hat and placed it on his head.

im g0ing

Aradia picked up Droog's bloodied shotgun and held it close to her chest.

Yeah I had a feeling you would be.

I'm going too.

Ms Paint took Slick's hand in her own and stared him defiantly in the eye.

I could give you some macho line about what is and isn't a suitable place for a nice girl like you but I imagine you'd just set my suit on fire. Ms Paint, you are a lovely lady and I think you just might be insane. You're in.

The prospitan woman beamed it him, and giggled.

How about you, Crocker? You ever wanted to shuffle with the gangsters?

She narrowed her eye at him.

Where is my father.

Same place I imagine Betty is right now. The part of Crocker tower below sea level.

If it is Betty

Something tells me it is. Call it a bastard's hunch. We can bust him out on the way there if you fancy.

Then I'm in.

Slick grinned broadly.

Time for a little initiation.

He kicked up the three hats before him and tossed them one after the other. Jane caught the one flung her direction; the broad rimmed gaucho that had belonged to Boxcars. It was just slightly big for her, and when she put it on it slid down to her brow, covering the scratched sign of the Condesce on her forehead. Aradia got Droog's homburg and Ms. Paint got Deuce's porkpie. 

are the hats really necessary

Yes the hats are necessary. Shut up and get a clean suit on. You two as well, suit up.

He jabbed a shiny finger at Jane and Ms. Paint. With a shrug, Jane complied. Throwing on a suit was hardly a steep price to pay for an alliance. She grabbed some things from the pile Aradia had made and changed into them. Slick tapped his foot impatiently as they dressed, and idly shuffled an odd deck of cards. When they were finally done, he grinned. 

Jane had thrown a black overcoat over her suit, and had to cut the right sleeve off everything to fit them over the shoulderplate of her crockerdrone arm. Aradia had just refreshed the skirted suit she already wore, while Ms. Paint had gone for something with a long skirt.

Now for the final step.

Slick took out three cards and held the up; the aces of clubs, hearts, and diamonds. The cards burned with umbral fire.

Welcome to the Midnight Crew.

He threw the cards, and each slapped their target right in the face. Shadow magic blew across their bodies, and the world around them seemed just a tiny bit more poorly lit. 

And we're done. Make anything else you want. We're heading off in twenty one minutes.

Should we tell the others?

MS. Paint smiled, adjusting her hat. 

Leave a note if you like, they can catch up on their own time. The one with the pointy shades would just slow us down with all his 'planning' if we said anything now.

I'll leave a note then.

She headed over to a bench and began writing something on a piece of paper.

Oh yeah, Sleuth.

Slick turned to Jane.

Yes?

Since you seem planning on making red yours, you can have this too.

He took out the crowbar and tossed it to her. She caught it in her organic hand, and stared at it.

A crowbar?

Not just any crowbar. A Felt crowbar. One of their paradox juju things. The source of their powers.

What does this one do?

Break things. Maybe it breaks other juju's, I have no clue. A bunch of Felt died and some of their jujus might have been snagged. Who knows, it might come in handy.

Can I alchemize it?

Fucked if I know. They say these things have no beginning or end, and any copies of them are just empty fakes. But hey, maybe something doesn't have to be a juju to break a juju. I know feel like I've said juju enough times for life so you just go do whatever.

Jane flipped the card for the crowbar around and glanced at the code. It was mostly illegible, but nothing an intellibeam couldn't solve. As she headed over to the alchemiter, she considered what to make. 

She combined the crowbar with the cane, and got a baculabar. It just looked like the crowbar, but longer, redder, and with a bend. 

She combined the crowbar with the battleaxe, which made a battle crowbaxe. It's handle was bent, and its blades serrated. It still didn't seem right.

After grinding both those creations for grist, Jane decided to just go the whole cake mix. 

Senior Battermaster's Chestubuster Poking Solution Mk. 1.1.1. Horned ed. && Battleaxe || Baculum Cane && Crowbar

Rather than some horrible unwieldy mishmash like she was half expecting, what it generated instead was something surprising coordinated in design. The whole thing was bright red, and shared an obvious aesthetic with the crockerdrones. At its head was the two curved blades of the battleaxe, and between them jutted out a horn-like spike for thrusting. The center of the weapon's head dipped inwards, and Viewed from above this made it look almost like a slitted spoon. Its handle length made it more of a polearm than an axe, and the end of the candle curled around like a cane, though it bore the crowbar's teeth. Since it seemed close enough to both a fork and a spoon like this, the mode switch made both those qualities vanish, and left her with a sleek, red cane. This weapon, according to her sylladex, bore the simple enough name of 'The Runcible Spoon.' 

With the rest of her grist, Jane alchemized some fenestrated walls and some barbasol bombs. With Slick's haste, there wasn't enough time to have Roxy go through the full process of blessing the dark windows. She'd just have to hope the fearsome beasts were in a cooperative mood.

Leaning on her new creation, Jane Sassacre nee Crocker returned to Spades Slick, the leader of the Midnight Crew and once the demon that terrorized the world. To his left was Aradia, the psychic troll ghost bound to a robotic shell. To his right was Ms. Paint, the strange, quiet prospitan strangely enamored with him. The city-state was ruled by a supposedly immortal god-empress troll, and both a one-man socialist state and a little girl that worshiped a dark god beneath the city were gunning for the job. The gang supposedly run by a timeless demon was still at large, but down half its members and probably pissed. Martial law had been declared and as far as everybody was concerned that meant war season was open. She knew just getting her father back wouldn't solve anything, but the big picture stretched so far in all directions her Dad was the only thing she could see.

You ready kid?

As ready as I can be.

Then let's move. Someone once told me I was cancer, a disease upon the Earth that came about through some gross cosmic negligence. Well, your Imperious Condescension, Betty Crocker, guess who's come down with the Noir.

 

Half way across the city, in the highest room of the tallest tower, Meenah Peixes cackled maniacally in her new office.

cod dam i cannot believe how dumb she was to rely on this shitty memo system.

The fresh out of water seatroll had seen fit to dress herself in a hot pink suit and a black vest. Some curved rim glasses sat on her face, along with a broad, toothy grin. Before her was Betty Crocker's laptop, opened to a trollian app found nowhere else in the world; the transchronal memo. The memo currently displayed was from a long, long time prior.

oh look at me, my future selves tell me what to do, then i tell my past selves what it is that i did. all my plans work even if they make no sense. glubglubglub. do this do that. glubglubglub. did it seariously never occur to you that this piece of crap could never predict your own death? look, all i have to do is type this

\-- future )(er Imperious Condesencion ()(IC) joined memo at 1:11, 11 years from now --

F)(IC: the plan went pretty good  
F)(IC: got the eye  
F)(IC: mayor lives but that dont matter  
P)(IC: message confirmed  
P)(IC: going ahead with this plan then

 

and just like that your whole downfall is set in stone. you utterly dumb beach.

Meenah arched her back, her eyes crackling with psionic energy.

now i got me a hot bod full of powers, more dosh than i can count, and this entire city at my beck an call. what do i want to do now?

She spun around on her chair, cackling madly, and came to a stop facing the window overlooking the city. She stood up and spread her arms.

MIN -E

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end for now. I have no idea if I will ever actually do part 2 of Crockerpunk. Ending part 1 here had been the plan since this fic's inception. Jane has joined with the Midnight Crew, Crockercorp now has someone a lot more reckless at the helm, Tavris exists as a horrible cyborg frankensteinian entity, and neither Feferi nor The Felt have showed their true hands yet. 
> 
> I don't really see this getting too popular. I made a lot of sloppy mistakes, not all of which I've managed to identify yet, but I had fun writing it. 
> 
> If you ever want to get in contact with me for any old reason my tumblr is spidantic.tumblr.com.


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